Harry Potter and the Elves Most Fabulous
by Steelbadger
Summary: Elfling!Harry. Except not. Jaded and cynical Master Auror Harry Potter gets sent to Arda to relive his non-existent childhood. Childhood sucks. Rated M for language.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hello all!

So I had to write an Elfling!Harry fic. Only It's The Wrong Harry (Gromit!)

As the genre says this is parody through and through. If you're looking for a deep comment on life, the universe and everything... this isn't the place to look. Some strong language (Harry's understandably unhappy at being dragged to Middle-earth), it gets toned down a bit later.

This fic has a singular purpose, catharsis. Chapters are shorter (I can do one of these chapters in a couple of hours if I want to chill out) and will be a bit random in timing. It shouldn't eat into the posting schedule of my other fics.

* * *

**Meddlesome Anthropomorphic Personifications  
**

Death looked on.

Through the ages the being known as Death had seen many men come and go. They were temporary, ephemeral. Their existence was the merest speck amid the vast majesty of the universe.

Yet Death watched.

Why should Death watch such beings, so small and weak? Why should anything in the universe care about such utterly inconsequential nothings? The universe did not care, why should Death care?

Death did care.

The race of men, so weak and momentary, had a single thing, a single spark, that piqued Death's interest. They knew Death. They realised the inevitability of Death, the certainty. Yet they carried on regardless. They understood that their existence was merely a prelude to Death. They were wheat before the scythe, the beasts to slaughter. Yet still they strived.

Or, one man did.

The Master of Death.

Death did not understand.

Death was not cruel. When life became too much to bear, Death would be there to lighten the burden.

This man was beyond the help of Death. He did not need it. He understood the full weight of existence and life and stood bowed, but not broken. Still, though, Death wished to help.

Beyond Death's own universe stood another, where Death's power was not so complete. Where beings lived that called themselves 'immortal'.

A burden shared is a burden halved.

The Master of Death, this being who had achieved a true understanding of the one true inevitability, whom Death could not unburden of life, could find company through the turns of eternity in this world.

Death would give what help Death could. Death always did.

o-o

"Morgana's saggy _cunt!_" Harry attempted to growl. His voice was high and pure, it tinkled like a sparkling spring stream. Entirely unsuited to menacing growling. "What the _fuck_ is this?"

Harry Potter, Master Auror, Order of Merlin 1st Class and the most feared dark wizard hunter in the last half millennia was pissed.

He had been asleep at his house. Asleep may be pushing the term, he'd been resting. Harry barely slept for more than a couple of hours each night, and when he did he always slept with eyes open and more defensive wards set up than Buckingham Palace. Anything larger than a flea would find itself frozen, zapped, chained, caged and stunned in moments should they try to enter his abode. Then things would get worse as they would then come face to face with the most feared man in the world.

None of his traps had triggered. None of his alarm animals had called. He hadn't seen or heard a thing.

So how the _fuck_ did he end up in a _fucking_ forest. More importantly, how in the name of Dumbledore's wrinkly ball-sack had he been completely divested of his clothes and transformed into a child without noticing? He was no bigger than he'd been when he'd first gone to Hogwarts!

If they weren't dead he'd suspect Fred and George, the twisted geniuses that they were. But they were dead. Very definitely dead. Raining down on Diagon Alley in little chunks dead. Unless they'd found a way to prank him from beyond the Veil, Harry was fairly sure they were blameless in this.

Someone was to blame and as soon as Harry found out who that someone was they would be in for a world of hurt. If it _was_ Fred and George then he'd just have to find some way to resurrect them for his vengeance.

He looked around, taking quick stock of his surroundings. There wasn't much to see really. Harry, despite a long jaunt through every woodland in the UK during the war, was useless at nature.

He recognised trees. Definitely trees. And some bushes. And green stuff that might be moss, but he wasn't sure.

No threats.

That pretty much summed up his assessment. A quick check confirmed that there were no significant latent magics in the area. Magic felt a little thicker than usual in the air, but certainly nothing out of the ordinary. No anti-travel charms anyway.

He decided the best way to deal with this would be to apparate to a safehouse and then figure out the transfiguration portion of the joke.

He twisted on the spot.

He fell over.

"Fuck."

So despite being unimpeded, he was unable to apparate. That was impossible. Harry was capable of apparating clear around the planet if necessary. He sincerely doubted he was stuck on Mars or anywhere else. He didn't pay that much attention to such things but he was fairly certain Mars wasn't known for its lush forests.

Maybe they'd done something to his magic to 'prolong the hilarity'?

A quick gesture caused the Elder Wand to materialise in his hand and another sent a shower of sparks into the air above him.

His magic was fine. He was now very confused. Fred and George were going to _suffer. _There was no-one else this could be. Someone had found a way to block his Apparition… without blocking it. He'd once tried to Apparate to the moon as part of a drunken wager. It felt like that.

But he was on Earth.

Probably.

Shit. What if he _wasn't_ on Earth? No, that was stupid. The trees were trees, the grass was grass, the bushes were bushes and the sun looked suspiciously like the sun. If this was another planet it was the splitting bloody image of Earth.

He cursed again under his breath. He'd have to go 'exploring' as he was sure the twins would gleefully have been crowing if they weren't already entirely dead.

Probably.

No, they were definitely dead. Alive people generally were not of the consistency of sausage filling.

He had to work out just what the fuck had happened. And to do that he needed to know more. And to know more he needed to _beat the bloody fuck _out of someone until they told him.

He smiled. That, at least, was familiar.

Picking a direction at random he started walking, an idle flick of his wand conjuring fine emerald robes about his body. Emerald was stealthy in a wood, right? The robes were as fine as silk and included a raised hood to keep the chill at bay.

The wood was very quiet. Indeed it was suspiciously quiet. If he'd been in a group he was sure some idiot would have felt the need to supply that it was 'too quiet'. Probably a few seconds before having their face introduced to some curse or other. Actually, it wasn't really that green either. It was _thick_, but the trees looked like they might have some kind of disease. More than that he couldn't say. Perhaps these trees were meant to look like someone had thrown up on them?

After hours of walking his situation didn't seem to have changed. The sun was hidden behind the thick and impenetrable canopy but the bare little light filtering through was dimming further, dusk was coming and Harry had made no headway. He was almost certain that he'd seen one particular tree before. It had a massive spider's web hanging from its branches like a hammock. Surely there couldn't be five identical trees?

But Harry was nothing if not persistent. Bloody minded might be more accurate.

Much later after much walking and much much more swearing the light finally failed and Harry conjured a bright point of light to lead him on his way. He was surprised to see the light was much dimmer than usual and even flickered uncertainly painting his surroundings in dancing shadows and half seen shapes.

Bugger that for a laugh. He re-cast the spell and didn't piss about this time. He might have over-cooked it though as the light almost blinded him at first, but at least it wasn't flickering any more. He grinned malevolently and a watcher in the trees would say he looked positively adorable. Weird Buggery Forest - 0 : Harry Potter - 1.

It was not long before someone noticed the little nova he was now walking around with.

A sweet and pure voice, like it was dipped in honey, cried to him from nearby. He didn't understand the words but they were the least of his concerns. Some fucker had managed to sneak up on him. He spun and lashed out with a spell and it would have gone badly for the newcomer if he hadn't had the reactions of a sodding doxie and managed to leap out of the way.

They raised their hands in front of them in an obviously unaggressive gesture. Well, probably unaggressive. Harry had heard of some tribe in Africa that performed that same gesture before they attacked. Something along the lines of 'These are the hands at which you will meet your death'.

He didn't lower his wand.

The unknown, tagged in Harry's mind for now as 'Pretty Boy', spoke again in what he probably thought was soothing tones. Harry merely found them annoying. Any idiot who thought this was an OK situation obviously deserved a stay at Palais Dementor in his opinion.

That said Harry thought the guy might be a bit deficient anyway. He looked like he was LARPing or something as he was wearing an effeminate green tunic very _pretty _looking weapons and had the most utterly _fabulous_ blonde hair Harry had seen this side of Lucius Malfoy.

"Listen mate," he said, trying to be as civil as possible. "I don't understand a word you're saying. No speaka inglesi?" he tried.

A frown crossed the blonde ponce's face, a simple expression that could probably have brought a classical painter, or Dumbledore, to tears. Harry just thought he looked constipated.

Blondie came closer, or tried to anyway, Harry's still raised wand started glowing alarmingly at his movement. Well, alarmingly for Blondie at least. Perhaps he did have a brain knocking about between those stupid bloody ears of his because he stopped immediately.

He spoke again, as if Harry would suddenly understand what he was saying after a few words exchanged. Moron. Everyone knew it took at least a couple of weeks to assimilate a new language. And that was assuming it was an actual language and not just some Klingon bullshit made-up on the spur of the moment.

He seemed to want Harry to follow him. Also it was possible that his name was 'Legolas'. Harry didn't much care but decided that he would henceforth be known as 'Legless the Fabulous.

Following him wasn't a bad idea, much to his chagrin. He was lost. Well and truly. He needed to find civilisation. Hopefully someone there would speak English. At the very least he might find someone with a few more functioning brain cells to rub together than the legless wonder.

Finally, Harry lowered his wand and decided to give the guy a name.

He held his hand to his chest and said, "Blondie's a moron." It didn't have to be a real name.

Mr. L'Oreal nodded and said, "Blondie's a moron." A bright smile graced his infuriatingly flawless features and revealed teeth so white Harry was sure the guy had gone and had whitening treatment. That shit wasn't natural.

Still, it gave him a source of amusement. And surely that was why he was here?

The man then turned, gesturing for Harry to follow and then fucking _pranced_ off into the woods. Harry just stared at him for a moment before he sighed, shook his head and followed heavily. It was going to be a long fucking day.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: 'Allo. Nothing serious.

**Military Decorum, or Lack Thereof**

As he was being led through the wood by the ridiculously cheerful blonde manchild Harry couldn't help but notice that he was pulling off acrobatics that were simply _not possible_.

So running up a tree might not be completely out of the realms of possibility but walking along _twigs_ without falling just… Was.

This guy could balance on a branch so thin that an anorexic squirrel would break it and fall off.

Harry was starting to come to the conclusion that the Prancy McGiggles might not be human. This conclusion was further reinforced when Harry surreptitiously attempted to pull off the stupid fake ears with a stealthy application of magic.

Blondie's girly squeal at having his ears near ripped off was almost completely ignored by Harry as he realised that they were real.

This bloke had actual real pointy ears. He'd heard of some weirdos who went in for that kind of body modification but this was real dedication to his craft.

Unless he really was somewhere utterly removed from Earth and this guy really did have pointy ears. Naturally.

Actually, now that he thought about it that seemed the more likely option. Harry had heard of Occam's Razor before and considered it completely useless in wizarding life. He had instead formulated Harry's Combine Harvester which stated 'If Harry Potter is in any way involved in an event then assume the most bizarre and convoluted set of circumstances is in fact the closest to the truth'.

Well, shit. Some kind of alternate reality it was then.

The nearly earless wonder came over to Harry and started speaking quickly in what Harry assumed was annoyance. He'd probably guessed the source of the ear-pulling event.

Harry ignored him. It wasn't as if the wrath of some guy armed with medieval weaponry was going to be anything more than a vague amusement.

The guy then sighed as if in resignation and _smiled_ at him indulgently before turning back and leading off again.

If someone had done that to Harry they would be hanging upside down by now. By their ears. Which would be attached firmly to their feet. If they were lucky. This guy just smiled?

Perhaps being a kid for a while wasn't so bad. No one was imminently trying to kill him and he seemed to be allowed to abuse anyone around him to his heart's content. They didn't even need to be criminals.

Finally he was led to another group of the House-Elf-eared pretty boys. He should really come up with a better designation.

Dracos. That sounded right.

He looked around the camp and saw about ten Dracos now peering at him in obvious interest. Some of them were women. _Hot_ women.

Not Dracos. Definitely not Dracos. It was a bit boring but perhaps 'Elves' would do as a name for now.

Blondie was saying something to the other 'Elves' and Harry didn't know what it was but he got the general idea. The presence of the words 'Blondie's a moron' in the discussion suggested he was explaining Harry's presence.

He soon found himself surrounded by the 'Elves' most of whom were fussing and cooing at him as if he was some kind of pigeon. Ordinarily this would have pissed him right off. In this particular situation there were some mitigating circumstances.

He was being hugged by possibly the most impressive babe since that time he'd 'succumbed' to Gabrielle's charms on her eighteenth birthday.

Not one to allow such an opportunity to go to waste he immediately grasped at her funbags and gave them a very pleasant squeeze.

She pushed back off him her eyes wide with shock and he stared back innocently. Judging by the reaction that look must have been pretty devastating in its effectiveness as she near enough melted into a puddle of warm goo and the other 'Elves' upped their fussing even more.

One of the 'Elves' pulled down his hood. Possibly to ruffle his hair in congratulations and suddenly silence descended.

Then the unintelligible gabbling returned with a fury and he felt hands reach for his ears.

In a moment of terrible clarity Harry realised just what had happened. He was a Drac. Uh. 'Elf'. And he was a child 'Elf'.

He grabbed a fistful of his hair and held it in front of his face, breathing a sigh of relief when he discovered he wasn't blonde.

Actually, now that he thought about it, Blondie was the odd one out. Most of the others had hair ranging from dark reddish brown to almost Weasley red. His own remained black and for that the world should be grateful. If anything had pissed with his hair he would tear down the very foundations of the world in his vengeance. He had grown a little attached to it over the years. Plus the ladies found it irresistible.

Almost immediately the 'Elves' started speaking to him again, this time in a different language. Probably. Still completely unintelligible but in a different way. This one sounded like it had been made by a gay welsh guy specifically for the purpose of writing flowery poetry.

He rolled his eyes at them. If he was in an alternative reality where there were completely different _races_ then it was obvious none of the language he or they knew would share any roots.

Of course they probably didn't realise he was from another world. Probably didn't get the Sci-fi channel in Medieval fairyland.

Not that there was any way to communicate this to them. He decided that the most effective way was to simply spend the week or two to gather a basic understanding of the language then find out just what kind of shit he'd stepped into.

The thought that he might _not_ have stepped into shit never even entered his head. He was Harry Potter, every step was into shit. Long years of experience left him well prepared for it.

Basically the best plan was to get them to hurry up and take him to their town or tree-city or mushroom castle where he could get to work on information gathering. Unfortunately they were hell-bent on babying him. He heartily discouraged them when they got too handsy by silently sending stinging hexes at them. Well, at the guys anyway. He had no problems being felt up by the hot Weasley-Veela cross. Her designation for the time being would be Weasla. Even better, she seemed to have taken a shine to him. Result.

He took advantage of the situation to cop a few more feels. It was only fair. And they seemed to be taking their sweet time about getting a move on. Was this supposed to be some kind of military patrol? If it was they were truly abysmal. He could have killed them a hundred times over by now, he could have had allies waiting in ambush. Completely oblivious. Idiots.

Had it not been for Weasla's ever enjoyable company he would have been contemplating just abandoning them when they finally decided to return, probably, to their home.

It was a long walk and made all the longer by the fact that _all_ of the 'Elves' acted like Blondie. Constantly prancing and laughing and singing. Their seemingly perpetual good cheer was enough to make Harry feel a little ill.

He'd always been suspicious of cheerful people. Cheerful people obviously had something planned.

Strangely the 'Elves' didn't live in a giant Mushroom or in an arboreal city. They lived in a cave. That was utterly disappointing. That said there was actually some magic to be seen here. The doors through which they passed opened and closed using magic and he noticed that when they closed they also locked fast.

That was a slight concern, but nothing too major. The doors might be charmed but he could easily blast a hole in the cave wall. Not that he'd ever need to. He could just Apparate back out into the woods if need be.

He was steered through the twisting maze of walkways and caverns, taking care to commit the entire layout to memory. You never know when you need to know the best place to set an ambush. Eventually they came to a throne room.

It was definitely a throne room. It had a throne in it. A big one. Sitting slouched in the rustic looking throne seemingly made of a living tree was yet another 'Elf'.

He looked the almost exactly the same as Blondie. And minus the hair they both looked very similar to all the other male 'Elves'. It was like they were a clone race or something. He was also running out of designations for them all, they had no defining features of note. It was getting frustrating. How could he keep track of the battlefield without tags for the other combatants?

Harry decided the bloke on the throne would be Luscious. He had the look of Lucius Malfoy about him, only even more so. It was curiously fitting.

Blondie strode to the man who glanced down at Harry condescendingly. Most people back home had learned that Harry didn't deal well with condescension. He made an actual physical effort to restrain himself. Physical violence rarely went down well in first contact scenarios.

Blondie spoke to the boss 'Elf' and once again Harry heard him explain that he was a moron in a very reasonable tone of voice then Lucy's eyes widened in shock much as they other 'Elves' had. His features immediately softened and he beckoned gently for Harry to come forward.

Harry rolled his eyes at that reaction again. Perhaps if he ever got back home he should consider doing his law enforcement job in the guise of a small child. People apparently loved that shit.

Nevertheless he walked forward, thoroughly tired of the coddling by now. It had been at least an hour since he'd had an opportunity to feel up the red headed babe. That was entirely too long to go without something to cheer him up.

"I'm guessing you don't understand me either, right?" he said flatly, once again reminded just how absurdly _pretty_ his voice now was. His reward was a very slight furrowing of the brows. "Thought so," he muttered.

Lucy spoke again to Blondie briefly, then to Weasla and finally said something to Harry. Then it was clear that the meeting was over and he was dismissed.

Blondie tapped him on the shoulder, never knowing how close he came to losing an arm, and led him off.

He just needed to make it a couple of weeks. Then he could explain that they were all acting like idiots and had no idea how to conduct a military operation. Then he could go on his way and try to find a way home.

He wasn't sure they'd survive that long.


	3. Chapter 3

**I Have To Wait How Long?**

Harry was awoken by a scream.

Having become something of a connoisseur of screams he recognised it immediately. This one was, "Aargh, I'm being attacked by a door and my hands are melting!" It was easy to tell, there was a frisson of uncertainty overlaid on the normal gut wrenching horror and then it was beautifully finished with a slight downturn in tone and a very slight bubbling sound.

For some reason the Elves thought it was entirely reasonable to walk into people's bedrooms. He realised that 'bedroom' was a rather grandiose term for what he'd been granted but the sentiment was the same. It may be a sorry excuse for a bedroom, almost as if the Elves didn't even know what they were for, but by Merlin it was his. They couldn't just waltz into his room, well they could try but then they'd end up in the aforementioned biting-door-hands-melting scenario.

He sighed in exasperation at the manners of some people and rolled out of bed. He noticed that he was curiously well rested. Ordinarily he barely got three hours of true sleep in a night and it was true last night too. Despite this he felt more cheerful than he'd felt in a long time.

Or perhaps it was just the sound of the Elf outside being slowly turned into a puddle with lovely hair. For some reason the Flesh Melting Curse didn't do hair. He'd never found a way around it and, truth be told, rather preferred the result anyway.

He ambled over to the door and wrenched it open. Ordinarily he would have plastered a thunderous look on his face but his new body was utterly unaccommodating in that area and didn't seem to be capable of producing any reaction but further protective fussing.

Blondie was rolling on the ground flailing with his rapidly diminishing arm stumps, around him were more panicked and horrified Elves. For some reason some of them were carrying a bizarre selection of items between them.

A negligent flick of his wand later and the twin fleshy pools that had once been Blondie's forearms leaped from the ground and reformed as if nothing had happened. It took the Elf a few seconds to realise he was no longer melting and now had his arms back. When he did he was completely lost for a moment as he stared at his arms in wonder and confusion.

Harry went back to looking at the motley collection of items that was seemingly being brought to his room. A large number of books and quite a few sketches and paintings. Plus a bunch of things Harry did not recognise but which probably weren't weapons.

By now Blondie had stood up and say apparently rather annoyed that Harry had the gall to put defenses on his own bedroom. Harry simply raised a single eyebrow at the guy. That was one thing this new body could do, it had beautiful eyebrows for raising. Much better than his old ones which had been burned off more times than he cared to count.

He then let himself into Harry's bedroom, an act that would have gone badly for him had Harry not quickly deactivated his more serious defences before he crossed the threshold. The little tribe of still obviously terrified Elves following him dumped the stuff they were carrying on the table and scrambled out the door again in positively unelvish disarray.

All that were left was Blondie and Weasla. Eventually, after a lot of sitting down and poking at his arms to ensure they were still there, Blondie picked up one of the books. He pointed at it and said, "parff." He then gave Harry an expectant look.

Oh. Language lessons. Just what he wanted.

o-o

Blondie learned quickly. After the first day he did not try and walk straight into Harry's room. Instead he would use a long stick or staff to rap on the door. It was lucky he'd thought of that really, because had he knocked on the door with his hands then the whole melting Elves saga would have been repeated and Harry had already been told off for that.

Probably, he wasn't really paying attention and none of the words made sense. But he'd taken the time to notice what the subject probably was, so that was really rather charitable of him.

He still wasn't lifting the protections on his door. Only a moron with a death sentence slept unprotected. He was already stretching his rules by staying in a place the location of which was known to others. He figured he was in a new world, it was time to be flexible.

It didn't take long for Harry to explain to Blondie that he was far too old for this baby level shit. Well, he perhaps didn't explain. He did however make it quite clear that he was 28 and could Blondie please fuck off.

He didn't of course. It took until the end of the week for Harry to understand why. He'd initially assumed it was because the guy had a death wish but it turned out that wasn't the case. Or not the sole reason anyway.

Harry was actually physically 28. Finding out that Weasla was hundreds of years old and Blondie thousands was eye opening. Had he had one of old Moody's fake eyes it might have fallen out. He wondered how many 'G's would have to be prepended to 'GILF' to describe her accurately. Even more importantly though, if he was interpreting Blondie correctly, which wasn't entirely certain, then Harry had another 72 years to wait until he came of age according to the Elves.

That did not go down well with him at all. A large problem immediately presented itself. Through the use of some rather explicit charades, using Weasla as a prop of course, he managed to ask when he'd be able to get some action.

When he was 100.

That was a longer dry spell than even _Dumbledore_ had seen. That wasn't cricket at all. Oh and Weasla felt the need to chip in, through some very imaginative gestures, that apparently fucking someone was a one-way trip to marital hell.

No matter what universe he was in being an Elf was undoubtedly the greatest curse any man could endure.

o-o

He had to escape. That wasn't hard. The problem was doing it without simply getting lost in Mirkwood again.

He'd been here now for two weeks. Blondie and Tauriel, formerly known as Weasla, had done good work and with a few language reinforcement spells he had a pretty good grasp of Sindarin and could get by in Westron. In a rare act of charity Harry had decided to use Tauriel's actual name. Mostly because she seemed to enjoy watching him wind up Blondie as much as Harry enjoyed doing it.

And she wasn't a credulous moron. And was also seriously hot, GILF or not. And apparently not entirely annoyed with Harry's continuing attempts at sexual harassment. He figured he might be in with a chance there… On his hundredth birthday. Fuck Elves. His blue balls were going to be legendary.

He had discovered that the Elves thought him some kind of Chosen One who was going to cleanse Middle-Earth of its Dark Lord and _then_ lead them against their old one which apparently they had left kicking about somewhere and was expected to come back some day.

Now while Harry wasn't opposed to this per se, an opportunity for a gigantic fight was always a good thing, he wasn't too fond of the Chosen One thing. Call it an allergy. It only had one useful feature, and that was getting ridiculously enthusiastic women to have sex with him anytime and anywhere. Except the sex thing was off the cards in Middle Earth which was about as sexually liberated as McGonagall's underwear drawer.

Then he found his ticket out. A bunch of Dwarves had come to Elftown, it wasn't actually called Elftown but the 'Halls of the Elvenking' was much too far up its own arse to bother with, and were now planning on leaving.

By a rather unusual route.

Barrels dropped into the river that ran through the caves and then they seemingly planned to simply _hope_ that the Elves didn't just stick them full of arrows. It was a ridiculously stupid idea.

So naturally Harry was going to join them.

As the even shorter dwarf with an invisibility ring prepared to dunk his charges Harry snuck into one of the remaining barrels under a Disillusionment Charm and decided the best plan of action was to simply hide in the Barrel with a Waterbreathing Charm applied. He poked his head out of the barrel just before the short-arse with the fluffy feet pulled the lever and Harry quickly placed a tracking charm on him for good measure.

These guys were sure to go somewhere more interesting, and hopefully less prissy. And it might even be exciting.


	4. Chapter 4

**Beards Most Fabulous**

Harry hooted in delight as he finally escaped the stifling and utterly infuriating prison of Elftown. Much to his continued chagrin it did not come out much like he'd intended. Instead the sickeningly pure _giggle_ of an Elfling rang through the lower halls like the clearest of bells. The barrel he'd decided to catch a lift on was swept downstream at a breakneck pace. In front him him the Dwarves were mostly hooting successfully, though a few looked about ready to lose their lunch.

Considering the bland veggie crap the Elves served at every meal he felt that they probably had the right idea.

The river flowed fast from the Elvish cave network and soon he finally came to see some sunlight. In all his time here it had either been obscured by the canopy of trees or the glittery caves of His Elvishness. Unfortunately it seemed as if the Dwarves hadn't quite thought their ruse through from start to finish in their desperation to escape the perfectly manicured grasp of the Elves.

There was a gate across the river. As they came around the bend he heard the Elves guarding it shout to him. "Estel!" they called, "Gil-Estel! Do not worry, for we shall not allow you to be swept away!"

One of them pulled a large lever nearby and a grate dropped across the river, barring their way.

"Fuck that," murmured Harry as a spell shot from his outstretched wand. It was a tough shot given the speed he was being swept along and how impressively unstable a barrel actually was as a boat. Of course he still made it. He might have blasted a couple of the Elves too but they probably weren't too badly hurt if their distant groans were any indication.

He also wasn't altogether bothered if they were hurt. In recent days some of the Elves had taken to trying to foist fucking stupid names on him as if he wasn't quite happy with Harry, thank you very much.

Gil-Estel was their most recent attempt. Star of Hope. Harry had been forced to reign in his considerable wrath when it had caught on. If the one who'd thought that name up had had an 'accident' and been forced to spend the last couple of days as a three-toed lizard, well, Harry wasn't going to complain.

They swept quickly through the new gap and Harry heard more cries go up behind. He spun in his barrel and saw that a large number of Elves, predictably led by Blondie and Tauriel were chasing after them. Had been chasing after them. Now they were locked in a running battle with some guys of impressive ugliness.

They looked rather like someone had taken the bastard offspring of goblins and trolls then roasted them over a fire for a while so that they looked extra crispy. Their skin actually looked burnt, cracked and blistered and everything. Poor guys.

There was one that was different, taller than the rest and extremely pale. He seemed to be the one giving the orders. Given that those orders appeared to involve shooting arrows at Harry he felt it was probably worth shutting him up. Harry assumed that was what the orders involved anyway, it was hard to tell, Harry couldn't understand their language at all.

Well, better safe than sorry. A purple light scythed from his wand and the now headless creature flapped pathetically to the ground, its limbs spasming wildly.

For a while the other creatures didn't notice and the makeshift flotilla continued down the river and out of sight. Out of sight of most. Two Elves continued to follow, but at least these ones had been trained to use his real name.

"Harry, stop, you must return!" called Blondie as he scampered along a tree branch that overhung the river. "The world beyond my father's Halls is too dangerous for one so young as you!"

Harry simply raised a single finger in the infuriating Elf's direction and shouted back, "Spin on it, Blondie!"

Tauriel simply laughed at his insult, he was constantly having to revise his opinion of her upwards.

Eventually the current slowed and the Dwarves paddled to shore while Harry simply Apparated from his barrel at the rear of their formation.

"I knew there was someone else with us!" declared the first Dwarf to see him. Describing them was proving difficult as most wore truly impressive beards, were running to portly and, to put it lightly, short-arses.

The one that spoke had a slightly shorter beard than the rest of them, but his most distinguishing feature was the unfortunate helmet hair he wore on his head. Also he sounded a few sickles short of a galleon, so he was now called Dopey.

"What is this," said the deep and commanding tones of the Dwarf that was probably in charge of the group. At least the way he pushed them aside to get a look at Harry suggested it. He also looked like his sense of humour had been surgically removed as his dour and angry looking eyes glared at the guy who had almost certainly stopped them from being either stopped by the elves or turned into pincushions by the Goblin-Trolls. "A child! How came you here, boy?"

Harry was unmoved by the pointless show of authority. "I wanted out, you wanted out, I figured I'd catch a ride and we'd both get what we wanted."

Giggles advanced on Harry and ranted in frustration, "This will not do, I will not have a child endangered so, even an Elf." He all but spat when he said Elf. Perhaps he was more intelligent than Harry had assumed.

Suddenly an arrow struck the ground between Harry and Thorin and a voice cried out, "You will not ha-aaargh-eek!"

Upon coming under attack Harry had immediately spun and fired off a spell. Blondie was extremely lucky Harry had enough time to realise who it was be was about to introduce to messy death and though he didn't stop his spell he did change it slightly. Instead of being consumed by a rabid pack of giant weasels he was simply turned into one. It was the best Harry could do in the heat of the moment.

Beside the panicked looking giant weasel stood Tauriel who rolled her eyes at Legolas' continued inability to keep himself safe from Harry-inflicted harm.

"Couldn't you have told him shooting at me was a bad idea?" Harry asked in exasperation.

She shrugged in that infuriatingly graceful and utterly sexy way of Elf women and said, "I was interested to see what fate would befall him. Beyond that, today has been the most excitement I have experienced in many weeks so I felt it was only fair to allow you a little stress relief."

"Isn't he supposed to be your Prince?" Harry asked as he returned Blondie to his usual self, though he did look rather more unkempt than usual for him as he reappeared kneeling on the ground on all fours.

"Here, just what in Mahal's name is going on," cut in a bass voice with a strong scottish burr. This voice had its source in a slightly less short Dwarf who was heavily tattooed and bald of head.

"Harry, it seems, was bored with life among his kin and decided to search for some excitement out in the world," said Tauriel with a knowing smile that Harry was pretty sure would have been outlawed back home.

"Well he can return there, the lair of a dragon is no place for a child!" said Giggles forcefully.

"Woah woah woah," said Harry, his little hands making adorable slow down gestures. "A dragon? I haven't fought one of those for _years_. Great idea, that's settled. You show me the dragon, I see some excitement, you get whatever it is you want. Everyone wins."

"What!" cried Blondie at the same moment as half of the Dwarves. One of whom Harry now idly noted had a fucking _axe_ embedded in his skull. Tattooed bald guys, epic facial hair and _fucking skull axes_. Dwarves already had Elves beaten, hands down. Which was fortunate because they certainly couldn't raise them all that far.

"No, absolutely not," cried Blondie and Giggles had seemingly completely forgotten his hatred of Elvenkind as he nodded vigorously. "You, will be returning to the Halls with us." He gestured to Tauriel.

She took a single smooth step away from him, which he did not seem to notice as he continued. "In fact all of you will be returning, you Dwarves were not given leave to continue on your quest."

Giggles immediately stopped nodding and growled at the suddenly lonely Elf as Baldy and another Dwarf with no distinguishing marks save a gigantic fuzzball of ginger hair brandished tree branches threateningly. The rest also attempted to look menacing but failed rather dismally considering how short and bedraggled they all looked. Dopey appeared to be wielding a noisome looking stocking and wore a suitably uncertain expression.

Harry sighed and stooped to pick up a river stone as he muttered about idiots who didn't know when to quit. "Right, how about this. I give you this stone-" he tapped the stone with his wand "-and you pretend you knew nothing about any of this."

Blondie looked confused and began, "That is not-"

"Catch!" said Harry as he tossed the stone across.

Instinctually the Elf captured it in one hand and instantly disappeared as the Portkey activated and returned him to one of the many fountains the dotted his father's Halls.

He then turned to Tauriel who to her credit didn't seem altogether alarmed and said, "Well, now that he's dealt with, you want to come along?"

One of the Dwarves, this one with a sad neckbeard clinging to the underside of his face piped up, "Oh, yes! We'd welcome your- argh!" Another Dwarf with a litte more facial hair but who looked otherwise very similar stamped on his foot.

"Kíli has no say in who joins this company," Giggles ground out. "I will not have a beardless boy or an _Elf_ endangering our mission!"

"Oh," said Harry with false sadness and the look of utter devastation on his cherubic face was soul crushing to behold, but in a moment it cleared and he turned to Tauriel. "Well, how do you feel like going to kill a dragon just the two of us? I bet we can beat the Seven Dwarves over here. There and back again before they've even finished the hi-ho song."

"You cannot do that!" shouted Giggles.

"Why not?" Harry asked innocently. "I'm sure Tauriel knows where we're going and I know she's been wanting to get out and see a bit of the world. Seems a dragon would be a good place to start."

An extremely old looking Dwarf who put Harry in mind of a vertically challenged Santa spoke up, "You stand before Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór and the true King Under the Mountain."

"Erebor is my birthright, mine and my kin," said Giggles firmly.

Harry raised a single eyebrow at that. "So you just loaned it out to the dragon then?"

Thorin was now thoroughly confused and Harry felt it was time to go in for the kill. "Well that's fine then. Me and Tauriel come along with you lads, I get my fun, you get your home. I don't see what the issue is. Come on then, no time like the present."

Harry then began walking off in the direction of the mountain that was at the far end of the lake they had washed up beside.

He wasn't altogether bothered when the Dwarves didn't follow and instead started bickering about something or other behind him. Apparently they were of the opinion that if an insane baby Elf wanted to go and make themselves and their nursemaid a snack for a Dragon then they were welcome to. He felt that was a bit unfair, he was easily the most sane Elf he'd ever encountered. Beside him it seemed Tauriel was resigned to the situation.

"Do you really mean to kill the dragon?" asked Tauriel lightly. Over the last two weeks she had come to something of an understanding of his psyche. She'd quickly come to the realisation that Harry was probably the most dangerous being in Middle-earth and that it was best to just roll with it. He was impressed that she was following along though. The dragon was supposed to be pretty nasty.

"Yep," he said shortly, then changed the subject easily. "So, that Kíli, now there was a lump of whiskery beefcake that seemed to have the hots for you..." He had to find some way of passing the time.


	5. Chapter 5

**We're off to see the Dragon**

"So, that Kíli, now _there_ was a lump of whiskery beefcake that seemed to have the hots for you," he asked playfully.

"Please, did you see his beard? And the smell," she said as her perfect nose scrunched up at the thought of the lovestruck Dwarf.

"Definitely a disappointing growth, I'll grant you," admitted Harry, deliberately misinterpreting her words. "The fat one though, _he_ had a real beard. It's not even worth having one if you can't tie it in a bow on the top of your head. Do it properly or go home."

"Most Elves do not grow beards," said Tauriel as her lips twitched in amusement. Harry was quite impressed by how quickly she'd adapted to his attitude. "I have never seen any facial hair on an Elf, it simply looks… strange to my eyes. To say nothing of their height, they are not like to get taller."

"I'd say it was a pity if I wasn't actually pleased," said Harry honestly.

"They're not following us," said Tauriel after looking back towards where they had left the company of Dwarves behind. Deliberately changing the subject, Harry noted.

"Didn't think they would," Harry admitted to her, letting it slide for now. "To be honest they'd just slow us down. Can you see which way they're going?" Not that he especially cared but if they were headed straight for the mountain by boat then Harry would need to pick up the pace to get there first.

"They make for Esgaroth," she said after another glance back to the distant river.

"Ahhh, well, I suppose we can take our time then," said Harry happily. He picked up a single flat stone from the ground and skimmed it out over the lake. He kept walking but every now and then would see what he'd call a 'prime skimmer' and would stop to cast it over the still waters at their side.

There was a short silence filled with the occasional splash before Tauriel spoke up again.

"Why would you wish to fight the dragon when it is no concern of yours?" she asked and Harry thought he detected a certain amount of doubt in her tone. He could understand her misgivings, dragons weren't really things to be trifled with. It was a good job he had no intention of merely trifling with the thing.

Harry shrugged easily. "I may as well, it gives me something to do," he said confidently.

"Is that the only reason?" she asked with more insight than Harry would like. He often lamented his weakness for perceptive women. His life would have been so much easier if he could just settle for a bimbo.

"Yeah, all right. I also want to help the short arses, even if they do smell funny. I'm not completely heartless," he admitted grudgingly.

She glanced at him then before saying lightly, "Some of them are taller than you, you know."

"Height is a state of mind," said Harry while making a dismissive gesture. "You don't need to be taller than the other guy to look down on them."

Tauriel smiled at his reasoning. "You seem to be gaining some familiarity with the Elvish frame of mind," she said.

He scowled, the expression, as always, looking completely out of place on his flawless features. "Piss off, I know you find Legolas and Thranduil just as stuck up as I do."

Her pure high laugh rang across the shale-strewn shoreline. "I would not put it in those terms," she said after she recovered. "But I would not disagree with you in the sentiment."

"What can you tell me about the dragon?" Harry asked to change the subject. He was of the firm opinion that anything personal that did not involve sex should be left well alone.

"Smaug?" she asked, "I have never seen him but I hear tell he is longer than even the greatest trees of Mirkwood are tall, that he towered over the city of Dale and crushed buildings beneath his claws."

That was… quite substantially larger than any dragon Harry had encountered. This thing sounded like it could be up to fifty meters or more. That was a lot of claw, fire and scale.

His step only faltered very slightly, he wasn't going to bow out now. If a bunch of _Dwarves_ thought they could take this creature on then Harry Potter wasn't going to be cowed.

"Concerned?" Tauriel answered in some amusement. Apparently his reaction hadn't got past her.

"I expected bigger, actually," he said with some bravado. "We'll be done in no time."

"Of course," she said, managing to sound as if she had no doubts whatsoever. Harry supposed that having hundreds of years of experience would make anyone pretty confident of their ability to survive. That, and he'd seen her using that bow of hers.

Still, though. She had no magic and the aforementioned bow was unlikely to do much more than piss off a dragon of that size. She must have some pretty impressive brass ones hanging between her legs, or whatever the female equivalent was. Harry hoped she didn't have anything hanging down there. He wasn't entirely familiar with Elvish sexual dimorphism but was firmly of the opinion that testicles would ruin a perfectly good experience.

They both continued along the shore. Harry occupied his time either needling Tauriel over her ever lengthening list of suitors or walking just a little closer to her than propriety would dictate.

She took it like a champion, reacting only with brief words or a single raised eyebrow. Harry felt supremely validated in his decision to let her come along. She was always good for a sarcastic remark and had a truly impressive ability to absorb Harry's own snark without any real reaction.

Harry had long grown out of the romantic notion of love at first sight, but he wasn't entirely inured to the thought of 'fuck it, she'll do'.

o-o

Dale was a mess. Completely ruined in a way that left Harry without a comforting sarcastic recourse. Ordinarily he'd make some joke about how they should at least have tidied up if they were going to have guests, which would be greeted with disbelieving or disgusted looks from the people accompanying him. Here there were black bones in places on the streets, some of them were too small to be adults.

He was an arsehole, yes, but he wasn't completely heartless.

Tauriel appreciated his silence, she evidently had a bit of an issue with death as a concept. Harry felt that was a bit strange as surely most of the stuff she'd ever known that wasn't specifically Elvish had died at some point. Nonetheless, he held his tongue and they made their quiet way towards the mountain.

"Did you have a plan to get in?" Tauriel asked as they approached the front gate.

"What?" asked Harry in surprise. "Why do we need a plan? There's the front door right there." He pointed at the gargantuan steel door flanked by towering Dwarves carved into the rock of the mountain. Short man syndrome writ large.

"It is locked," she said simply. As if that explained everything; it really didn't.

"Then we'll open it," said Harry, still a little confused about what the problem might be.

"It is a Dwarf door, spelled to only open from within," she explained when she realised he was becoming increasingly lost.

"Wait, are you saying the dragon's locked in there?" he asked suddenly realising what that would mean. The dragon had been stuck in there for, what, sixty years? Surely it had starved to death by now.

"No," she said patiently. "Smaug is inside, only he may open the great gates."

"... Smaug is smart enough to open these gates without just knocking them off their hinges?" Harry asked eventually.

"Of course, dragons have a great intellect and possess a cunning beyond any other," she answered.

Well that made things even more interesting. A fifty meter long _intelligent_ dragon. This really was going to be an interesting day. When he'd set out he hadn't really been expecting any kind of challenge. He possessed the Elder Wand and had been the most powerful wizard in his previous world. He could take down a dragon.

Or at least he could take down sensible dragons. The dragons in Middle-earth were a bit ridiculous to his mind. If you were already a hundred meter long flying lizard with scales as hard as steel and fire breath as hot as a forge then surely being a genius was overkill?

Oh well. He looked at the door before him. It was indeed spelled in some way, pretty nice work actually. Of course the mountain surrounding the door _wasn't_ so well protected. He decided that drilling through the side of the mountain was probably the fastest way in rather than trying to undo the charms on the gate.

*BOOM*

Tauriel was startled by the sudden explosion. "You do-"

*BOOM*

"-realise-"

*BOOM*

"-that this-"

*BOOM*

"-is sure-"

*BOOM*

"-to wake-"

*BOOM*

"-the dragon," finished Tauriel as Harry inspected his handiwork. That hadn't taken long at all. He glanced at her.

"He was going to wake up some time," he said reasonably. "May as well be now, polite knock and all that."

His caution was still well drummed into him from his long years as an Auror and he applied a number of protective charms to both of them. The main event was the mother of all flame freezing charms. It wouldn't do to get barbecued, that would be embarrassing.

He squeezed through the small tunnel he'd carved through the stone of the mountain for a few meters until he reached the interior of the mountain.

Huge was his first thought. The halls of Erebor looked like they'd been made to accommodate Dwarves the size of the stone guardians who stood outside. He couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps Dwarves really had once been that big. That would be ironic.

He looked back at the just appearing Tauriel and took a moment to appreciate the wonderful view he had of her cleavage, a thing he rarely got to see from this angle due to his annoying lack of altitude. "So where's thi-" he began saying when his words were cut off by a whistling sound from above.

The earth shook as the great dragon, Smaug, fell from his perch upon the roof above and landed on the ground before them.

He towered over the two interlopers, easily more than twenty meters tall and with gold and jewels encrusted over every inch of his hide. His wings were spread wide and stretched far into two halls that split off to the sides of the main one, his claws left deep indentations in the ground where he'd come to rest. His teeth were the size of Harry and his eyes shone with malevolent intelligence.

"Well bugger me sideways," said Harry conversationally, "he's as big as you said."


	6. Chapter 6

**The Airspeed Velocity of an Unladen Dragon**

Smaug's huge head snaked forwards and Harry's estimation of Tauriel went down significantly when she interposed herself between Harry and the dragon's very large teeth.

"Who would so casually enter my kingdom?" asked the dragon in deep rumbling tones. A single slitted lizard-eye was focused on them, intent and suspicious.

That was a surprise. Harry supposed he really should have expected the thing to be able to talk after Tauriel's 'intellect and cunning' statement but it was still a surprise. It also helped smooth over any lingering moral concerns he had. It was no longer an animal that didn't know better, it was a person who casually murdered thousands of people. Given a distinct lack of Azkaban, or any other prison, there was really only one way of dealing with it.

Harry gently pushed Tauriel to the side and ambled closer to the dragon as he toyed with the wand in his hand absently. "That'll be me. I heard about how you had a bit of a habit of roasting people alive then eating them," he said flatly. "Personally I've always had a bit of a problem with that kind of thing."

As Harry got closer the dragon had to pull back a little to keep him in focus. It seemed amused by his bravado. "Do you know how many would-be heroes have met their end by my claws?" Smaug lashed out at the wall above them and gouged deep furrows in the hard stone. Harry and Tauriel would have been peppered with falling rocks and gravel had Harry not subtly turned them aside. The dragon continued his boasting.

"How many great warriors have been torn apart in my jaws?" It snapped at Harry, the huge teeth clacking together just feet from Harry's face. He did not flinch.

"How many young fools have had their flesh boiled from their bones by my fire?" Smaug drew in a great breath and his huge chest glowed ominously. A torrent of fire rolled over Harry and Tauriel's heads and the stone of the wall glowed red from the heat.

Harry watched the display impassively but was inwardly impressed. The fire would have burned their hair off them where they stood by convection alone were it not for the flame freezing charm he'd applied before entering. And he _was _much bigger than any dragon back home. That said, he was also just a dragon, no matter how big he might be. Fire was pretty boring, magically speaking.

"Well that's nice," he said, not looking at all phased, "but I doubt you've faced anyone like me before."

The dragon's head snapped down to him again, it could move very fast, and Harry could feel the lingering warmth emanating from its mouth. "Little Elfling," it growled in tones of menace, "it has been long years since I last tasted an Elf so young as you. But you would not be my first."

"Look," said Harry patiently, "can we cut to the chase. We both know you're not going to let us out of here so stop pussy-footing about. Lets get to business." He stood in a ready pose with his wand. He wouldn't usually give any warning, being a firm subscriber to Moody's school of battling which stated that if you were doing it fairly you were doing it wrong.

He had to admit to just a little bit of curiosity in what Smaug was planning to do though.

"But perhaps I will let you go," said Smaug softly, its smooth, deep voice slid across the bare stone. "Perhaps I will keep your friend. Or perhaps I shall keep you both here for a time. I might enjoy the… company."

Suddenly it lashed out again and tore a huge chunk from the wall over Harry's newly constructed entrance. Its vicious reptilian grin was much in evidence when he turned back to Harry.

"You do realise I dug my way in right?" said Harry in confusion. "I could easily dig back out again. Not that I need to, it's just a rock.

To demonstrate his point he flicked his wand and the massive boulder rose from the ground and hit Smaug square in the mouth at Hogwarts Express speeds. The cavern shook as the dragon cried out in surprise and anger. Harry was fairly sure he didn't actually much hurt the creature. Drama queen.

It reared back from them and rose to its full impressive height and glared imperiously down at the two tiny figures before it.

At least, that was the intent. The moment the rock had shattered against the bone and scale of Smaug's head he began transfiguring the pieces into huge ceramic golems. As he did so he cocked his head at Tauriel.

"Either get out or stay close," he said firmly, his usual joking persona dropped. "He's a big bastard and I'll need to concentrate."

She snapped out of her stupor and unslung her bow. Her pathetic little arrows had about as much effect on the beast as he imagined spitballs would. Perhaps if she could hit it in the eye she might cause some small amount of damage but such a specific point proved a difficult target.

The ceramic golems didn't last more than a few seconds. It was all very well making his creations fireproof but there was nothing to stop Smaug simply smashing them into little pieces. Bit of an oversight, that. He tried to take advantage though by transfiguring the remaining pieces into a swarm of gigantic bees ranging up to the size of large cats which Harry then sent at the dragon's eyes.

A burst of flame spilled from its glowing maw and the bees were incinerated in moments. The fire rolled over Harry and Tauriel, the latter whimpering as it closed upon them.

Harry chuckled as he felt the warm tickling sensation wash over him, in his child-like body it came out as more of a giggle and rung clearly through the halls of Erebor. Smaug stopped.

"Is that it?" asked Harry in disappointment as the flames died around him. "Are you sure you're not getting old? I hear performance issues aren't uncommon-" Another torrent of flame poured from the dragon, even hotter than the last. Again they did nothing more than tickle Harry and his amazed companion.

After a long moment Smaug stopped and the fire winked out leaving the two untouched upon near molten stone. The charms applied to them had protected the nearest stone and so each stood on a tiny island of solid rock.

"Still disappointed," said Harry as he wove his wand through the air in front of him. The molten stone coalesced quickly together into wobbling mounds and _grew_, up, up and further up until a second huge dragon occupied the hall.

It lunged at Smaug and his earsplitting roar shook the mountain with such ferocity than Harry was nearly thrown from his feet. Teeth of diamond, larger than Harry bit into the neck of the dragon and burning blood fell from its wounds. Its great wings unfurled and he beat them powerfully enough to send Harry and Tauriel tumbling had Harry not Apparated them both behind it as soon as the battle was joined.

Smaug lunged at Harry's huge creation and smashed it aside before barrelling into the huge locked gates of Erebor and taking flight.

"The dragon flees from you?" said Tauriel in amazement as it rose quickly into the air beyond the great gates.

"Things tend to do that," said Harry with as much modesty as he could muster given the situation. "I'm a bit worried about leaving him to go though."

He thought about it for a moment before speaking again. "I think there's probably something I can do about that," he said thoughtfully.

Tauriel was not paying him much attention, instead it was being held by the entrance hall before them. Harry's huge molten dragon was setting solid before the great gates, mouth open wide and threateningly, and was giving of plinking noises as it cooled. Harry was looking forward to the comments that would get, it was quite the conversation starter.

"Yeah, should work," he concluded. "Back in a moment, you might want an umbrella."

She blinked in confusion but before she could question him further he disappeared with a pop.

He reappeared outside the doors of Erebor and looked up at the sky for Smaug. The dragon was winging his way towards the lake and Harry decided it would be best to stop it before it reached the town.

He apparated again, this time landing on the moving and shifting back of the dragon as it flew through the air. He cast a _Sonorus _upon himself.

"Hey, you left before we could finish our business," he said conversationally from his position just behind the head of the dragon. "Seems a bit rude to me."

Smaug, enraged beyond all reason did not speak instead he fell into some death-defying aerial maneuvers as he tried to shake his passenger off. Harry applied a sticking charm to keep him safe and sound.

"You know this isn't the first time I've ridden a dragon," he said over the whistling wind. "But you may be the first dragon _ever_ to die this way."

Just as Smaug was performing another writhing flip in the air Harry grabbed a spike upon his neck and disapparated. Side-along apparition was dangerous enough for the passenger in laissez faire apparition when they were something easy and human. Something the size of Smaug was guaranteed to splinch, and splinch nastily.

It was a mess.

Half of the head, and part of the neck came with Harry back to Erebor. The wings and tail did not go anywhere and plunged into the lake below. Everything else reappeared somewhere in between in neat, perfectly sliced-off chunks.

The company of Thorin, who had been running as fast as their stubby little legs could carry them were almost crushed when the heart of the dragon materialized nearly a hundred meters over their heads. Only by luck and the sturdiness of Dwarves did they avoid being crushed. Kíli got the worst of it and had to be dug out of the gigantic aorta over the course of an hour. The rest got away with merely having bits of dragon in their beards. Most felt this was an acceptable state of affairs.

Harry didn't know any of that. Instead he reappeared in the Great Hall of Erebor with the biggest damp thwump he'd heard since the last time he'd seen Pansy Parkinson get on a broom.

He did a quick check of his own body parts and came up missing just a couple of toe-nails. It had been a bit of a risky idea but he'd been confident that Smaug would get the worst of it simply because of how _big_ he was. Simple arithmancy, really.

He looked over to where Tauriel stood completely speechless. "Well," he said as he cleaned up the dragon blood, which had gotten everywhere. "That's that, what do we do now?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Doesn't Even Have a Daughter**

Harry peered over the recently repaired battlements that sat above the front gates of Erebor and looked down at the puzzled and frustrated Dwarves below. A few were covered in blood and bits of dragon and all looked extremely dishevelled. At that moment he was glad the Dwarves were such short-arses. If these battlements had been designed for Men he'd probably need a box. He couldn't have lived that down. As it was Tauriel had already made a comment about how adorable he looked when standing on tip-toes.

"Hello!" he called down cheerily, his honeysuckle voice easily carrying down to the party below. "Who is it?"

The grey bearded one stood forward to give the introduction again when the leader Dwarf, Harry was drawing a blank for his name, stepped up and shouted, "You know who I am, boy! You would stand above the doors of _my_ Kingdom and treat with me like this?"

"Actually, I've forgott-"

"He is Thorin Oakenshield, Harry," interjected Tauriel with a sigh. "Grandson of the last King of Erebor. I know you remember."

"Remember how long it took me to get _your_ name," Harry reminded her quietly. "I just remember calling him Giggles but I thought he might take offense. I'm trying to be diplomatic here," he finished haughtily.

"Of course," she responded and rolled her eyes. "Diplomatic."

"We will not be ignored!" came an angry shout from below, bringing Harry's attention back to them.

"Oh, sorry about that," he said unapologetically. "Right, so. Thorin Oakenshield?"

"Yes." Harry could almost hear the grinding of teeth from where he stood. Actually, as an Elf he really could hear the grinding of teeth. That couldn't be good for them.

"Well, see, I don't really have all that much use for this great big hole in the ground," he began and the Dwarves below sputtered in indignation. "But there's a going rate for dragon-slaying you know?"

"You would hold the birthright of my people hostage from us," said Thorin, his voice tight and his hands grasping at things unseen. "Erebor belongs to the Dwarves _alone_, it is not yours to give."

"That's the thing though," said Harry with infinite patience. "The going rate is half the kingdom and your daughter, I'm willing to negotiate on that though."

One of the younger Dwarves with a short blond tasselled beard piped up. "But Thorin doesn't have a daugh-"

He was silenced by a fiery glare from the Dwarven leader.

"We will not negotiate with thieves and usurpers!" shouted Thorin, his frustration getting the better of him. "You will return Erebor Lost to its rightful heir or the axes of the dwarves will come for you."

"Yeah, I've already got loads of those," said Harry as he waved his little hands dismissively. "You wouldn't believe how much gold there is in this place. The Goblins would have a field day."

"Goblins!" shouted one of the other Dwarves, this one at least had a proper beard.

"He is in league with them!" shouted another as the others went into an angry little huddle. Harry knew it was especially angry due to the urgency of the gesturing.

"Actually, I've never really got on all that well with the Goblins," Harry tried to point out. "I was just curious to know what they'd pay for the glowy rock we found."

"Glowy r-?" began the smallest, least hairy and best dressed Dwarf. "Thorin, he's found the Arkenstone!"

Harry turned back to Tauriel. "Arkenstone?"

"The Dwarves call it the King's Jewel," she explained unhelpfully.

"Does it do anything?" he asked as he waved his wand and summoned the stone in question to him.

"I would not know," she said without giving it much thought. "I believe it is nothing more or less than a beautiful gem."

That gem slapped into Harry's hand at that moment and he peered at it closely. It did look curiously magical but he couldn't feel anything from it. It did appear to be nothing more than a big shiny rock. "Huh, well that's-"

"Enough!" Thorin's voice cut across the chatter. "You will return the Arkenstone to me and open the gates of Erebor to me and my kin. Now!"

"Look, this is all getting very sensitive," said Harry, thinking back to his workplace conflict resolution sessions. "We should just walk away, take a deep breath and deal with this issue tomorrow."

"We will deal with this issue now!" demanded the Dwarf as he stamped his stubby legs in anger.

Harry was rapidly tiring of the would-be King's attitude and decided to defer the problem to another day.

"Look, how about I give you the Arkenstone," he suggested reasonably. "Then you go away, calm yourself down and we discuss this like the adults we bo- you are."

The Dwarves below went into another huddle as they argued about his offer. Harry leaned heavily upon the parapet as he watched the hushed but frantic discussion go nowhere fast.

He glanced at Tauriel. "Are Dwarves always like this?" he asked in resignation.

"In my experience, yes," said Tauriel. "It is a wonder that they made it so far as they did."

Harry sat and watched for what felt like an hour as the Dwarves continued to bicker amongst themselves. Finally, he grew tired and decided to move things along.

He transfigured the Arkenstone into a chicken with a wave and propelled it out over the gap to land in the wildly gesticulating arms of one of the Dwarves. They promptly dropped it and the argument stilled for a moment.

"Mmmmmmbuk" grumbled the chicken as it ruffled its feathers in front of the incredulous Dwarves.

Finally the big bald one was moved to speak. "What-"

The transfiguration reversed and he fell immediately silent again as they all gasped in reverence.

"The King's Jewel," gasped one wearing a ratty looking deerstalker-like hat.

Thorin bent low and scooped it up gently, as if it was the most precious thing in the world. The moment was rather ruined when Harry's pure voice rang out again from above the gates of Erebor.

"Right, so I'll see you blokes tomorrow," he called. "Say a couple of hours after dawn?"

Thorin nodded dumbly as he stared in wonder at the wondrous jewel he held in his hands.

"Well I'm glad that's settled," said Harry cheerily. "Now bugger off, you're making the place look untidy."

He turned around and flicked his wand absent-mindedly before he walked off. Had the Dwarves outside been watching they would have seen the gigantic entryway of Erebor disappear under an illusion. Suddenly the mountain looked plain and untouched.

Harry looked at Tauriel as they both walked back towards the interior. "So we've got some time to kill-"

"No," she said flatly.

"But you don't even know what I was going to-"

"No," she said again.

His shoulders slumped in distress for a moment before he perked back up. "Well I guess we'll just have to hav-"

"No."

"Shit. In that case, did I ever tell you about Scrooge McDuck?"

o-o

Harry sat slumped across the throne of Erebor as he waited for the Dwarves to show up for their agreed meeting. He glanced at Tauriel who was stood respectfully to the side. Both were now clad in the finest dragon-hide armour Harry could make. It glistened. If Tauriel's was ever so slightly more revealing than necessary then Harry would certainly never admit to it.

The Dwarves, when they finally arrive, looked dirty and untidy in comparison. That was largely because they _were_ dirty and untidy. Most were still wearing little more than the underclothes they'd been wearing when they escaped from Elftown.

"So then," he said when they'd stumped closer. "How can I help you?"

"You sit upon the Throne of Durin's Folk and ask its rightful King what you can do?" asked Thorin with disdain and a still simmering anger.

Most of the rest of his company echoed obviously echoed his feelings. There were two exceptions. The short camp looking beardless dwarf who just looked completely lost and Kíli who kept tripping over the smooth stone floor as he failed dismally to attract Tauriel's attention.

"Yes?" said Harry honestly as he pointedly ignored Kíli's sad display. Hormones came to all races it seemed. "I'm not a Dwarf. Don't really see the attraction to be honest."

Thorin seemed to be having significant difficulty understanding just what Harry was suggesting.

"Look," said Harry with infinite reasonableness. "I have no interest in this place. At all. But I don't work for free."

"We did not ask that you fight the dragon," Thorin pointed out. He continued with no small amount of incredulity, "You took the task upon yourself for _amusement_."

"That's true," Harry admitted. "And it was pretty amusing. So I'll waive most of the fee. I'm a reasonable guy."

"Then what fee would you demand of me to ransom my throne?" said Thorin and Harry could see the anger rising again. Time to finish this up.

"As much gold as I can reasonably carry," he said simply. "Surely that won't make much of a dent in the sea of gold that's sitting back there?"

The Dwarves once again felt the need to go into a huddle to discuss his eminently reasonable, at least on the face of it, offer. Eventually they accepted but they did not look at all happy about it.

"Very well, that much and no more," said Thorin grudgingly. "And your nursemaid is to have no hand in it."

"Don't have one," said Harry cheerily. "So that works out fine."

He disappeared from his reclining position with a pop and returned after a few awkward minutes in which Kíli once again tried his luck at flirting with a supremely disinterest Tauriel. It might have been the smell, Dwarves really should wash more than twice a year. She was managing to be very polite about it though. Occasionally she'd smile a tight little smile and Kíli would just about swoon, much to the disgust of the other Dwarves. When Harry appeared he was carrying a small plain looking pouch in hand.

"Well that's that then, mountain's yours I suppose." He bounced the little pouch up and down in his hands. "I don't have the keys so you might need to get a new lock put on the doors or something."

He looked to Tauriel and bowed in a gentlemanly way and let her lead the way. Behind them he heard the clump clump clump of excited Dwarves hot footing it into the treasure hall.

"How much did you take then?" she asked when it was clear he had no intention of mentioning it.

"Half," said Harry easily. "That was my stated fee, after all."

"The Dwarves will surely notice such a large portion of their hoard missing," she said with what would usually be a strangely unconcerned tone. By this point she had grown used to Harry's ability to come out of any situation on top.

"Doubt it. Cast a befuddlement hex on it," he said happily. "They'll be much too busy swimming in it to care."

They reached to great doors of Erebor and Harry quickly waved them open with a gesture.

The valley beyond was filled with Elves. And Dwarves. They appeared to be arguing. At the front Harry saw Blondie and his pops arguing with whom he assumed was the head Dwarf.

Legolas shouted something and drew his bow to point an arrow at the head of the Dwarf.

"Awww shit the bed Blondie," muttered Harry. "Can't I leave you alone for five seconds?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Adventures in Orc Purée**

A deafening crack echoed across the valley that ran before the gates of Erebor and all the collected Elves and Dwarves stopped hefting their weapons menacingly to look at the source. A short Elfling with messy black hair, Harry lowered his wand.

"Can I not leave you guys alone for five minutes?" he asked in chagrin. "Honestly _Legolas_ what sensible person threatens a guy in-front of two armies?"

"I… what?" said Blondie with a harried look. "I did not threaten him!"

Harry just stared at the blond idiot until he began to squirm. It actually took quite a long time, Harry was reluctantly impressed.

"He called me a pointy eared pansy," said Legolas a touch petulantly. His father ran a tired hand over his face and Harry felt a momentary pang of fellow feeling with the Lucius Malfoy look-a-like.

"Legolas," said Harry with infinite patience. Sometimes dealing with Blondie was like dealing with Rosie after a few too many of Honeydukes more experimental sweets. "_I've_ called you a pointy eared pansy."

"You're an Elfling," said Legolas. "Such behaviour is expected, if not perhaps the language." He actually managed to regain just a little bit of his lost poise and added a hint of reproach to his words.

"Right. And this guy's a Dwarf. Did you really expect better from him?" Harry pointed out before adding as an afterthought to the Dwarf. "Oh, no offence by the way."

The Dwarf, who possessed an impressive shock of bright red hair and a gigantic truly Dwarvish beard growled at Harry but didn't do anything else. Harry's Elvish ears picked up the faint grinding of his teeth.

Perhaps he was related to Thorin.

"Well n—" began Legolas.

"There we are then," said Harry as he clapped his hands together with a hopeful air of finality. "Can't really throw a hissy fit when he's just acting like you'd expect."

"Hissy…?" muttered Legolas quietly.

Harry ignored him and turned to Than… Thend… Thandy? Whoever. The boss Elf. "So I hate to sound like I'm trying to climb up my own arse but did you come all this way for me?"

"Lamentably, this is so," said Thranduil —Harry had to resist the urge to snap his fingers triumphantly when the name popped into his mind— with his normal look of disinterested arrogance. Harry was just a little pleased to note a slight edge of annoyance directed at Legolas though.

"Might I also commend your… minders on just how quickly you grasped the specifics of our language," he added as an afterthought. The look of subtle condescension he wore at that was a little masterpiece.

Harry decided to be the bigger man and didn't rise to the Lucius wannabe's comment. He was very pleased when Tauriel was able to shrug her king off so lightly. Legolas was not so sanguine.

"Father, it was not I that—"

He was silenced by a subterranean rumble passing beneath their feet. The Elves and Dwarves glared at each-other distrustfully while Harry's Auror instincts flared and his wand materialised in his hand.

Silence fell for a long moment and though Harry did not relax he couldn't help but interject. He looked at Tauriel who still had her hands on her bow and was looking about nervously. "Did the earth move for you too sweetie?" He smiled his best lecherous grin. If you were going to deploy clichés like that you had to go all out after all.

Once again he forgot just how unsuited to such actions his youthful and infuriatingly virginal face was. Perfect white teeth glinted in the morning sun and somehow the words sounded completely innocent on his tongue.

Tauriel just looked confused. While he was disappointed in his execution the result was still worth it. You could cut stone on those eyebrows.

Then there was a huge rumble and explosion of earth at the far end of the valley. Huge worm things burst from the ground and two huge holes were ripped in the far mountainside. Huge was the word that kept rattling around in Harry's head. They could give Smaug a run for his money and they were _worms_ that ate rock.

He was just glad they didn't decide to pop up closer. Like, say, right under his feet.

The story of Jonah was well known among wizards and had been mentioned in the 'extreme conditions' portion of his Auror training. He had no wish to put that lesson to the test. The exit strategy left a lot to be desired.

From the tunnels excavated by the worms came a swarm of dark figures that his sharp Elf eyes could make out as stunted and misshapen Orcs.

Harry immediately began to assess the situation. The Orcs, though they were obviously rather wretched, greatly outnumbered the forces of Elves and Dwarves. He had no illusions about the possibility of them working together, that would be utterly stupid. They'd just waste their time and lives in one-upmanship, he imagined the Elves would feel pride bound to run into the fray without thinking about defensive lines. He could almost see the thought forming in Thranduil's pretty little head.

"Right, you lot. All of you. Get inside Erebor," he said firmly. "I'll deal with this lot." The Elven and Dwarven leaders were not pleased.

"You cannot possibly—"

"You would order m—"

"No Elf is going to ste—"

"Oh shut up," said Harry tiredly. "Either you get into Erebor _now_ or I put you in Erebor in the most embarrassing way possible."

That threat seemed to get through to Legolas and Thranduil. Legolas winced and grasped at the space between his legs while Thranduil's eyes flashed to his son and tightened in sympathetic pain.

The Dwarf was not so convinced. "Look Elf, Dáin Ironfoot does not—"

He stopped talking when Harry casually started to sweep the Dwarves nearest to him through the air and into Erebor in a hairy cloud of flailing limbs. The armour worn by each unfortunate tossed Dwarf was inexplicably turned into an unbecoming pink tutu at the moment their feet left the ground.

Harry knew he'd regret that decision when he tried to sleep later. There were some things that the eyes of men —or Elves— were just not meant to see. Unclad Dwarf legs were definitely one of those things. Right after Dwarf chests in thin pink fabric. He could see nipples, they were most definitely not the right kind of nipples.

The things he endured in his efforts to save lives. They'd better have a medal for him after this.

More annoyingly, while the Elves were being marshalled into Erebor by their King and Prince, the Dwarves took exception to Harry's treatment of them and the boss Dwarf shouted for them to attack him. They complied very enthusiastically and after beating their shields together intimidatingly they charged him with a Dwarvish war cry. "Baruk Khazâd!"

Harry paid them no heed as he continued to sweep them all tidily into the safety of the mountain fortress.

It took mere seconds to throw the hundreds of Dwarves to safety. He left Dáin for last and once he was sure he'd found the rest of the furry little blighters Harry transfigured Dáin's armour into yellow jelly and threw him through the air with a final flick of his wand.

"Khazâd! Khazâd!" cried the Dwarf as he hurtled through the air to land coincidentally on top of Legolas. The gates slammed shut and disappeared into the stone of the mountain with a squelch.

Harry turned to Tauriel who was staring at him slack-jawed. "Did you just toss…?" she asked reverently.

"Seems that way," said Harry with a shrug. "You want to hang back too? Might get hairy."

"No more hairy than it has just been," she pointed out with a spark of humour. "Indeed I believe it may be blessedly _less_ hairy out here than in there."

Harry let out a barking laugh. The high pitched sound was much more like a fox in heat than the menacing grunt of a feared dark wizard hunter. He really needed to spend some time dealing with his stupid bloody voice.

"You've got me there," he allowed and he began ambling towards the still charging Orcs. "I'll be coughing up hairballs for months after that showing."

They both walked towards the closing line of Orcs. The valley was a long one, they really should have had the worms drop them off closer, it really wasn't much of a surprise if it took them the best part of a couple of minutes to cover the distance. They were probably winded by now if Harry was any judge.

Tauriel walked beside him though she did not echo his confident step. "You have a plan?" she asked hopefully.

Harry nodded. "Yep, talk to them."

She blinked. "I do not believe that will work," she said delicately.

"Got to give it a try though," said Harry in businesslike tones. "I'm not a butcher." It was the first rule of Auror-ing. Give the bad guys a chance to not be bad guys. It's only sporting after all. Sometimes he wished he'd been educated in America, no fair play bollocks from them.

They stopped a few hundred feet from the still charging Orcs. The shouting that was coming from them was no longer quite so enthusiastic. Whether due to tiredness or confusion Harry wasn't entirely sure.

Harry's voice boomed across the battlefield, inasmuch as it was possible for his voice to boom anyway. "Oi. Stop right there." Perhaps he should have given the words more thought beforehand.

He was thus rather surprised when they _did_ stop. From their hard to read and terribly ugly faces it looked to him like they were equally surprised.

"Uh. Oh. Right, well." Harry floundered as he tried to work out what came next. "Who's in charge here?"

The Orcs looked at him owlishly for a few long moments before they started chanting a name.

"Azog. Azog. Azog. Azog."

"Right, so where is he?" Harry asked the assembled multitude when they stopped chanting. One near the back kept going for quite some time.

The Orcs looked at each-other and Harry saw a lot of shrugging and lost looks. Eventually one of the smaller Orcs stepped forward.

"Err, we dunno," he admitted. Behind him the Orcs began grumbling between themselves.

Then a number of frantic horn blasts rang out from atop a hill at the side of the valley, on the ruined tower of an old outfort of Erebor stood a huge mechanism with arms that were waving frantically. It looked rather like a desperate attempt to get someone's attention.

"Up there maybe?" Harry asked reasonably. "As far away from the fighting as possible?"

"Err," said the Orc eloquently.

"Terrible what us foot soldiers have to put up with, eh?" said Harry consolingly.

"Too right," grunted the Orc. "We're only 'ere for the Dwarves and they've all gone and 'idden in the mountain."

"Ahh, yeah. If only you'd got here yesterday," Harry said with his best empathetic smile. He continued hopefully, "oh well, may as well turn around and head for home?"

"Huh?" asked the Orc as if Harry had grown a second head. "Nah, there's an 'uman town by the lake. Reckon that'd be good sport."

"There's a small problem with that plan though," Harry pointed out slowly.

"Oh yeh? What's that then?"

"I'd be unhappy." Harry crossed his arms and levelled a killing glare at the Orc who visibly recoiled.

"Uh, yeh, but it's not my idea see?" The Orc tried to weasel his way out from under Harry's gaze. "It's the lads. Bloodthirsty lot, never seen eye-to-eye."

"Riight," said Harry, pulling it out to make it clear he believed none of it. His glare did not waver.

"Look, it's no goo—"

Another horn blast rang out across the valley and Harry would have ignored it were it not for the insistent tapping on his shoulder courtesy of Tauriel.

He turned to see what could only be described as another army of Orcs and Wargs cresting the hill. Harry turned back to the Orc army in front of him and he could see them attempting to do some simple mathematics.

It was fairly obvious what the outcome was going to be. They restarted their charge towards the two seemingly exposed Elves.

The spokes-orc actually looked at Harry apologetically and shrugged. "No 'ard feelings? Yeh?" He draw his rusted blade.

Harry sighed. "No hard feelings."

The Orc exploded. The small bits of Orc left over then flew towards the first army and then _they_ exploded. Were it not for a windbreak made of flowery fabric Harry and Tauriel would have been covered in black blood and Orc giblets. Harry took a moment to inspect the print on his summoned furniture. Why was it always chintz?

"Harry!" called Tauriel between firing her bow ineffectually into the army now only meters away.

"Oh, right, sorry, I got sidetracked," said Harry as he quickly raised an impervious shield about them.

The Orcs ran into it head first. Given how quickly it had been cast it didn't do anything interesting, it merely kept them at a distance. The result was a lot of very squashed looking Orcs around the perimeter of his shield.

Harry peered out at them and noticed that the second army was charging for Erebor while the first attacked him and Tauriel. Probably best if he waylaid them a bit while he worked his way through the current backlog.

A casual wave of his wand later and the two gigantic stone Dwarves that guarded the gates of Erebor pulled themselves from the mountain side with an almighty grumbling and tearing of stone. They lumbered out towards the attacking army and shouted battle cries that shook the earth. Harry was impressed with himself, he'd never managed language from his creations before.

He turned his attention back to the army clustered outside his protective shield. At first they had fired arrows at his pearlescent silvery shield but had quickly realised the problem when most rebounded and killed their own. Now they pushed as close as possible and beat heavily upon the protective enchantment with their swords and axes. It was all faintly irrelevant really, they wouldn't be able to break it.

After seeing the Orcs pressed up against the solid shield Harry had had an idea. He wasn't sure it would work but it was certainly worth a try.

He slowly shrunk the shield about him and Tauriel until it was barely large enough for them both. This had the twofold advantage of pressing Tauriel firmly up against him. A secondary consideration was it also meant the Orcs pressed even closer.

He then raised a second shield, much much larger than the first which encompassed the entire attacking force. Then he started to shrink the outer shield slowly.

It took some time for the Orcs to realise what happened but by then it was much too late.

The slow constriction of the dual shields forced them closer and closer until finally it began to crush them completely. It was not unlike listening to popcorn in Hermione's microwave as limbs and bones snapped under the pressure. He kept constricting the shields until the popping noises stopped, which was long after the screaming had stopped. Better safe than sorry.

He then released the outer shield and the seething mass of pulverised bones, blood and flesh slumped to the ground like ripe dragon dung.

"Well, that worked," he said, a little surprised with himself. That was pretty brutal, even for him.

Tauriel obviously didn't trust herself to open her mouth and instead just nodded her pasty-white face.

With a pop Harry took pity on her and Apparated her away from the stench and eyesore of the Orc-purée. He took a quick look over towards Erebor and saw that his stone Dwarves were faring very well indeed against the remaining army. He was impressed to note that Thranduil had actually set up his archers upon the battlements of Erebor and they were making a real impact on the Orc numbers.

Once you dug through the mountain of pride there was actually a reasonably intelligent guy underneath. Who knew?

More important in Harry mind was the leader of the Orc forces. He suspected that any leader would likely be considering a 'tactical retreat' given how the battle was going so it was important that Harry jumped on him as soon as possible. With that in mind he Apparated himself and Tauriel to the top of the command tower he'd seen earlier. Tauriel still wasn't speaking but he figured she'd be safer alongside him than on her own.

They appeared next to two large white skinned Orcs.

The larger of the two screamed something in a language Harry didn't understand and swung a nasty looking weapon at his head.

In a conscious effort to spare Tauriel more unpleasant sights Harry elected for simply throwing the Orcs off the tower with a broad sweep of his hand. Their deep voices raised in panic as they fell to the ground hundreds of feet below. For good measure Harry then dropped two very large rocks on them both.

"Uhh, sorry about the Orc smoothie thing," he said sheepishly to Tauriel. "Not something anyone needs to see so soon after breakfast."

She shook her head as if to clear it. "It is not that," she said slowly. "The power you have seems to have no limits, should you so choose you could bring greater evil than Sauron ever could."

He patted her arm reassuringly. "Not gonna go there luv. Evil deeds really aren't my thing."

"Then what is your thing?" she asked seriously. "Your mere boredom could have lead to the deaths of thousands."

"Uhh, well." She shuffled uncomfortably. She was right, he was still treating everything here as if it was a holiday. He sighed. "You're right. I'll have to find some purpose that doesn't cause wars to break out."

Tauriel's nod was a relieved one and she gifted him a glowing smile. "That is well, Harry. I do not think I could have continued to travel with you had you continued on this destructive road."

So she was thinking of staying. That was good news, he grinned back at her.

Just as they were sharing what Harry thought was a lovely moment a screech came from high above and from the clouds descended dozens of eagles larger than horses. Riding upon the back of one Harry could see an old man clad in grey with a tall and crooked hat. He was very much the Merlin archetype if Harry was any judge.

Probably Gandalf then. Late, of course.


	9. Chapter 9

**Of Eyebrows and Wizards**

Harry hated battlefields. Once the fighting was over they became deathly boring. There was one small mercy this time, no-one but the very easily recognised 'bad guys' had died. Harry had been hopeful that he might have been able to convince them to bugger off rather than fight and he'd been having some luck too.

Unfortunately it wasn't to be and so now there was a large field covered in entrails to deal with. Some enterprising dwarves had clad themselves in heavy leather gear and were combing through the mess in search of anything of value while the few remaining Elves tried very hard to pretend it didn't exist.

That resulted in them looking at the sky a lot as the Goblins had been tracked everywhere by the Dwarves. Red footprints criss-crossed the entire battlefield.

Harry was standing alone atop one of the hills near the edge of the field. Most of the Elves and Dwarves were too scared to come near him and the ones who weren't scared appeared to merely be terminally stupid. Even Tauriel had left for a time, claiming that she was going to be quite some time in her attempt to wash off the smell of Goblin. She'd been utterly adamant that Harry was not to follow her. Given the circumstances Harry had acquiesced.

As Harry looked down on the battlefield, more thoughtful than he'd been in some time he noticed a grey figure picking his way slowly towards him. Eventually the figure resolved into the robed and be-hatted person of Gandalf the Grey.

"So you are the mysterious Elfling," said the worryingly familiar old man without preamble. "Word came to the White Council of your presence in the Halls of the Elvenking. Bronduíst Amoron, they said. An unusual name, to be sure."

In truth Harry hadn't quite been paying attention to the Wizard's words. 'Mithrandir' had of course been mentioned a number of times by the Elves of Mirkwood and Harry had paid close attention to the description of one of the very few magic users in Middle-earth. His attention was now focussed on the one aspect of the man that the Elves had not described in excruciating detail.

The eyebrows. They were true wonders and had more than earned the name supercilium. If he'd been a more poetic Man, or Elf, Harry would surely have been put in mind of mating voles. The British Wizarding world had long appreciated a good set of eyebrows. Indeed, Elphias Doge had long been the undisputed champion of brow-foliage within the UK. He was not a patch on Gandalf the Grey.

As the man spoke, though, something broke through Harry's awe.

Harry was not one to be often left speechless but in this case he had to bow to the inevitable. The perfectly smooth pale skin of his face went slack as his jaw dropped.

It was obvious that Gandalf was quite happy to wait for Harry to respond and the silence stretched out for long moments. The man simply stared at Harry while his twin crowning glories danced in amusement. It was obvious the man was a Dumbledore wannabe.

Wait. What had he just said? Bronduíst Amoron?

"Blondie's a moron?" Harry finally managed to choke out.

"Oh, is that how you pronounce it?" said Gandalf jovially. "We had been unsure. Does it have a meaning in your own tongue?"

Harry had the distinct impression that Gandalf knew _exactly_ what it meant. "Oh, yes. I believe it means something similar to 'It's none of your business'."

Gandalf chuckled quietly as he begun to big around in his impossible voluminous grey robes. "Ah! Of course, my understanding of English has never been the best, I will admit. Dirty, guttural language I fear."

It took Harry a moment to realise that, for the first time since his arrival he was speaking to someone who could _actually_ understand English. His cynical Auror's mind leapt straight passed that happy knowledge to a much darker assumption.

"Was it you that brought me here?" he nearly growled, though not through lack of effort. In the back of his mind he added 'find a spell to give me a menacing voice' to the nebulous list of things to be done at some point. At the same time he shifted his stance just slightly to ensure he was ready for whatever it was that was coming out of those robes.

"Not at all dear boy," said Gandalf without even looking up from his search. "Ah, here it is!"

Out of the robe came a large pouch out of which a length of thin wood protruded. Harry's reactions got the better of him in that moment and immediately the pouch flew into his outstretched hand with a dull whump.

"I say!" said Gandalf in surprise. "If you'd wished for a smoke my lad you need only ask. I believe I have a spare pipe on my person somewhere."

Harry looked down at his prize and it was indeed a pipe, and what looked like tobacco. After poking suspiciously at the pipe for a moment he handed both the pouch and the pipe back silently.

"Yes, perhaps it's for the best if you don't," admitted Gandalf as he took both without batting an eyelid. "One of your age would likely be ill-served by the smoke."

"Now, as I was saying…" he paused and furrowed his impressive brow. "Hmm… What was I saying?"

"About bringing me here?" said Harry tightly.

"Oh, yes. Of course. Not a clue my boy," he said as if imparting news of a birth to the family. "Your presence has a purpose, that no-one can doubt but it is certainly not clear to me, or anyone else among the Wise."

"But you speak English?" Harry persisted. "You know where I come from?"

"Well certainly! I would not be much of a Wizard if I did not." He harrumphed. "But it will not aid you in returning there. That way was closed long ago.

"Besides, as I understand it you have been rather enjoying your time here, have you not?"

He managed to make that lightly worded question sound like a reprimand, which would no doubt have worried Harry if he was still a school child. "Well, you know. It's a bit like Belgium. Nice to visit, but I wouldn't want to live here."

"Perhaps if you endeavoured not to cover the landscape in Goblin entrails and aggravated Dwarves perhaps it would be more amenable?" Gandalf suggested amicably.

Harry shrugged. "I was trying to spruce the place up a bit, it's all so drab."

"So you felt that perhaps the hills could use a very literal splash of colour?" asked Gandalf in seemingly genuine interest.

"Look, fine, I got a bit carried away," Harry admitted finally. "Tauriel already gave me the lecture, thanks. Can we go back to how I can get home?"

There was the merest suggestion of a frown on Gandalf's face for a moment but it was soon lost beneath his huge furrowed brow. "Lamentably I do not believe you can, indeed I would suggest that your home is now here."

"No, that's not how it works," Harry gamely tried to explain. "Home is where I keep my Firewhiskey. There's no Firewhiskey here, ergo, it's not home."

"Such a sad position," Gandalf sympathised and it _looked_ to be mostly sincere. "To be sundered from you home. But I'm sure you will be permitted to return thence should you complete the task before you."

"What _task!_" Harry shouted, his temper getting the better of him at last.

"Perhaps purpose is more the correct term," said Gandalf thoughtfully and giving no suggestion that Harry's outburst had in any way perturbed him. "But I do not know, either way."

Harry resisted the urge to grind his teeth in frustration. "Then just _why_ did you come to talk to me?"

"Forgive an old man his curiosity my boy," said Gandalf "I merely wished to meet the source of the spreading earthquake in these lands before the grounds opened up to consume it."

Harry blinked. "You think I'm going to die? Really?"

"Perhaps, but I think it more likely that your efforts to _avoid_ dying will take up much more of your time. But now, I must go. There is much argument in Erebor over whether they should ever open the doors again. It seems they're concerned that you might try to re-enter." The eyebrows wiggled in amusement.

Yes, definitely a Dumbledore wannabe. Although Harry had to give it to the man, his eyebrow game was much stronger than Dumbledore's twinkly eyes thing. Harry sighed and rubbed at his face tiredly. This was probably how other people felt after talking to _him_. He needed to find Legolas and let off some steam.

* * *

**A/N:** I don't usually put author's notes on this story but just this once I shall. Because I put a whole ton of effort into 'Bronduíst Amoron' and I'll be damned if I'll see it go to waste.

Sindarin etymology of the name:

Bronad - to last or survive.  
dû - a shadow or twilight.  
Ist - knowledge.

Am - upwards or above.  
Orn - tree.

So, by my (rather faulty) reckoning, Harry gave his name as 'Endures through shadow with knowledge, rising above the trees'.

Anyway, I'm mostly back now (after moving house and getting a new job) so you can expect to see content for my other stories trickling out over the next few weeks.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Is this a chapter that I see before me? Why yes, yes it is.

* * *

**Tales of Madness**

"Baaaaaa."

Harry inspected the animal in front of him with scholarly interest. It was an unusual sheep. Its hair was long and flowing rather than bushy and it was regarding him with a level of intelligence not normally found in sheep. It also had a certain grace usually lacking in the normal farmyard stock.

He poked it with his wand and it started to rapidly change colour.

"Baa."

Tauriel chose that moment to enter the room that Harry had taken over in his attempts to cure his boredom, or at least stave it off for a time.

"Harr…" She trailed off. "Why is there a sheep?"

"Hmm? Oh, you know. When a mummy sheep and a daddy sheep love each—"

"Why is there a sheep _here_?" she asked without missing a beat.

"Now _that_ is a good question," said Harry with false good-cheer. "I could have _sworn_ I told everyone that pissing with my experiments when I wasn't around was a bad idea."

A single perfect eyebrow was slowly raised. "That is an Elf?"

Harry was a little impressed by how easily she was able to take such things in her stride. Most people tended to react much more strongly to this kind of thing, then again she had been exposed to him for more than a month now. He might have her grumbling about Constant Vigilance in another month.

"Seems so," he admitted as he turned back to his prodding.

"Baaa."

"And are you unable to return him to his original form?" she asked after it became clear that nothing more would be forthcoming.

"Well, I could, but then what would they learn? He's a big boy, he needs to learn to fend for himself."

"Harry," said Tauriel tiredly. There _was_ something familiar about that slightly vacant sheepy stare. "Is that Blo… Legolas?"

o-o

"Urgh."

Thump.

"So."

Thump.

"Bored."

Thump.

Elves had, quite possibly, the most infuriatingly _tranquil_ existence of any sentient race Harry had ever encountered. They got up, they laughed and sang and told stories, they ate, and… that was about it.

At the beginning he'd had the suspicion that there was a lot of weird freaky sex going on behind closed doors. After a number of covert efforts that had, purely by coincidence of course, found him behind those selfsame closed doors he had realised that weird freaky sex was apparently _not_ something especially high on their list of priorities.

Still, that hadn't kept him from trying to introduce them to the wonders of the aforementioned weird freaky sex. He hadn't seen much progress on that front at all.

Even after a month Tauriel was still blue balling him. He'd tried everything short of actual magic. He'd even gone on a brief adventure to that shanty town on the lake to try and find a woman. It had, of course, been unsuccessful. Where were all the attractive young female ephebophiles when you actually _wanted_ them? It was enough to drive a man to drink.

And so he had no sex, no action, no-one imminently trying to kill him and all the time in the world.

"There has to be _something_ to sodding do!" cried Harry in desperation. "A Dark Lord to kill, an army of darkness to vanquish, a dark artifact to destroy?"

He hadn't realised when he'd promised Tauriel that he'd stop being so gung ho that he was dooming himself to an eternity of torture. It was no wonder Elves eventually died of boredom. There was only so many times a man could use magic to spy on undressing Elf maidens before it started to cause more problems than it solved.

o-o

"So explain this to me again," said Harry for the third time. "Why are we going to Rivenwatsit?"

"Rivendell," said Gandalf cheerfully, completely unphased by Harry's continued questions. "There the White Council has gathered to hear from you and discuss what to do."

"Right," said Harry and he thought for a moment, his little face scrunched up in thought. "But why should I give a shit? I mean, correct me if I'm wrong here, but couldn't I just bugger off somewhere actually interesting?"

"You will find much to interest yourself in Rivendell, I think," the grey-haired old fraud said thoughtfully. In all honesty Harry had not seen the man perform any magic at all. His first impression had been of a Dumbledore wannabe. Now he was coming to the conclusion that this man was more like an unholy Dumbledore-Lockhart double-threat.

Harry had elected to join the man and his half-pint companion Billybob, or whatever, for the simple reason that it kept him well away from the Halls of the Elvenking. If he stayed there any longer it was likely to become a very _interesting_ crater.

"Yeah, right. Much to interest me. I bet it's just overflowing with unsolved murders, Dark Lords and nymphomaniacs?"

Beside him Tauriel raised a single perfect eyebrow. Harry didn't back down. "Well, a man has needs."

"So you have told me, on numerous occasions."

"But you never seem to believe me."

She did not dignify him with a response. She really was getting infuriatingly good at managing his special brand of persuasion. Harry decided to give that one up for now, it was obviously a dead-end. He glanced at their Hobbit companion who was trying very hard to look like he wasn't listening. He had a thought.

"Hey, Belby—"

"Bilbo."

"Right, Bilbo. What are Hobbit ladies like?"

To his credit the Hobbit wasn't so oblivious to the world that he couldn't read into Harry's transparent intent. He narrowed his eyes. "Why do you ask?"

In the short time Harry had been around the hairy-footed short-arse he'd quickly come to realise that he had a sense of propriety that made most Purebloods look like bawdy teenagers. The easiest way around such barriers, Harry had learned, was to simply crash straight on through.

"Well, would they be up to letting me Slytherin their Hufflepuff?"

Gandalf choked suddenly on his pipe and started coughing loudly while Bilbo managed to go even more red. Tauriel, who by this point had heard almost everything in Harry's arsenal just shook her head.

"Slithering her what?" asked the Hobbit. Harry grinned, morbid curiosity was always one of his greatest allies.

"You know, do the barnaby, make the kelpy, stick our pissbits together and ride the Crup?"

Harry was certain that the old Wizard was now laughing while the Hobbit was doing his very best to sink into the ground. Harry went in for the kill. "Fuck."

It had taken nearly an entire week of needling to get a translation for that word out of Tauriel. Well worth the effort, in Harry's opinion. It was such a useful general purpose word.

"I, whooo! Um, Gandalf, can I sit down for a moment?" asked the Hobbit as his delicate sensibilities threatened to come crashing down around his little pointy ears.

The grey old codger smiled, probably, there was a lot of beard in the way, and took pity on him. "Of course Bilbo, you should not heed young Bronduíst's words, he is from far afield and his people do not keep the same standards as the gentle Hobbitfolk."

Bilbo cocked his head and nodded, clearly trying to communicate that that was an understatement of cosmic proportions. "I noticed."

Harry waited until the Hobbit had managed to get his breathing back under control before he asked his next question.

"Any prostitutes?"

Bilbo turned to the greybeard, his voice almost devoid of hope. "I think I should like to make my own way home, Gandalf."

o-o

"So let me get this straight," Harry said two days later. They were at last nearing Rivendell and Gandalf had finally acquiesced to telling Harry a little more of the background of the conflict he'd managed to step into. "There was this bad guy, who was maybe sort-of kinda killed, and you're worried that he's coming back?"

"The Dark Lord Sauron, yes," confirmed Gandalf. "His Darkness spreads across the land. I think you felt it well enough in Mirkwood, did you not?"

"Right. And he's building up armies and so forth in this Murder place."

"Mordor," corrected Gandalf, stressing the r's far more than was sensible in Harry's opinion.

"Yeah, whatever. So why hasn't Gondor or someone gone and cleared it out?"

"You speak like it is a simple matter of merely walking into Mordor," said Gandalf reproachfully. "He has been gathering his power there for many long years, the Gate has been rebuilt and the great forges relit. It is a fortress larger than all the holdings of Gondor and every beast that moves beneath the shadowed sky there is under the command of the Eye."

That still didn't really answer why they hadn't just made sure the bloody place hadn't been allowed to pull itself back together. That said, however, Harry knew that there wasn't much point in crying over spilt milk. Deal with the problem at hand, _then_ find someone to blame.

"Right. So is that _my_ job then? One more Dark Lord to kill shouldn't be too bad." In all honesty Harry wasn't much pleased by the fact that even _fate_ seemed to want to make his life difficult but this was one of those cases where he had to roll with the punches.

At least until he could find a way of kicking Fate in the danglies.

"I think you would be ill advised to journey into the maw of Darkness," suggested Gandalf, showing his Dumbledore colours. He might not wear the same garish robes but his attitude was very similar. "Even with the power you wield. Sauron is great and ancient, powerful though you may be I fear he is yet the greater. He cannot be undone by mortal means."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "So what means do you suggest?"

Gandalf was silent for a brief time, clearly wondering if it was wise to tell Harry of Sauron's weakness. Eventually he reached a decision. "There is an item, a Ring, that holds the greater part of his power. If that was destroyed then Sauron's power would be broken. He would not be dead, but he would be diminished beyond any hope of return."

"Okay then. So where is this Ring?" Harry could almost hear the capital letter clunk into place.

"It was lost," said Gandalf simply. "Long years Saruman searched for it in Gladden Fields, never was it found."

"Probably wouldn't be too hard to find," Harry said and he pulled his wand out. "Point Me Sauron's Ring."

The Elder Wand spun quickly about until it was pointing south, past the slumbering Hobbit who was mumbling something about 'Elevenses'. Harry tucked his wand away again.

"With a bit of triangulation it should be pretty easy to find, I think."

"Hmmm." Gandalf's furry caterpillar eyebrows were near mating on his forehead with the intensity of his thought. "Perhaps you will have a use beyond merely distracting the Dark Lord's forces."

"Well, y'know," said Harry as he glanced at where Tauriel was doing that creepy Elf thing where they 'slept' with their eyes open. "One does what one can."

o-o

"Bronduíst Amoron, you are welcome in Rivendell."

Lord Elrond actually left Harry feeling just a little bit impressed, even despite himself. He was still dressed in those ridiculous Elfy clothes that would surely be a disadvantage if he ever came under attack, but there was a watchfulness to him that Harry felt was familiar.

If this was what a _proper_ Elf was like then Harry had perhaps been a little unkind to them. Until now he'd thought Tauriel was the only one worth much thought. Elrond, though, had a bearing not unlike Dumbledore when his blood was up, and Elrond was seemingly like that _all the time_.

"Lord Elrond," Harry said politely and he nodded his head. He was willing to give this man the respect afforded to an equal. "Thank you for your hospitality. But, please, I much prefer Harry."

Harry could almost hear Belby's jaw crack as it fell open. Even Tauriel was giving him a look of honest incredulity. Elrond nodded pleasantly and moved on to greet the others. It wasn't until the Elf Lord greeted Tauriel personally that she shook her shock off. Harry supposed it was understandable. He _might_ have been a bit caustic, on occasion.

He shook those thoughts off and looked around Rivendell in interest, his green eyes shining bright. It was much more pleasant than the Halls of the Elvenking. The buildings were light and airy, the valley was deep and scenic and the Elves had a bit more get-up-and-go to them than those in Mirkwood.

But most importantly from Harry's point of view, the Valley was very easily defended and there were a number of armed guards in evidence. It was clear that Elrond was no fool, he had designed his home settlement well. It might look like one of the Delacour's holiday homes but it was also a fortress. The high sweeping bridges gave archers standing on them perfect fields of fire over any invading enemy and the many halls and balconies meant that any attacking force would have to negotiate an almost impenetrable maze.

Yes, Harry was sure he would find this place much more relaxing.

The only slight problem would be the small kid, maybe nine years-old or so who was looking at him with awe and excitement.

Harry swore then and there that if he was going to be expected to play babysitter for some snot-nosed brat he might have to level this place completely. It would be unfortunate, but ultimately he felt that it would be a fitting punishment.


	11. Chapter 11

**The Council of Elrond and Shit**

"So you can do real magic?" A small child asked another slightly larger child as the elder ineffectually attempted to stalk the corridors of Rivendell.

"Do you have nifflers in your ears kid?" asked Harry as he was forced to field _that_ particular question for the third time in the last ten minutes. There was, he mused, an annoying similarity between children and drunk people. They never seemed to get bored of repeating the same topics of conversation ad infinitum. Of course drunk adults had a leg up in this area as there was a 50% chance that they were female, and Harry was more than willing to forgive them a little repetition in such circumstances. "Yes, I can do real magic."

"Show me! Show me! Oh please Master Harry!" the kid, Estel, chanted as he bounced up and down excitedly.

There was a brief moment when Harry contemplated demonstrating the magic in a rather impressive way by simply sending the little twerp to Mirkwood for an impromptu holiday. He had no doubt Blondie would simply _love_ another kid to dote upon. And Blondie's little harem of lady friends, God alone knew how he managed to collect that little menagerie while Harry was still stuck on a coterie of one, would probably melt from the cute.

Perhaps Harry was just feeling bitter that Tauriel had dumped him for some kind of nature walk.

Anyway, no, sending the hellion to Blondie was a bad idea. It made Harry feel slightly ill just thinking about it. The ridiculous amount of cutesy shite might just make the world implode.

He flicked his wand and some fireworks sprouted from the end, a fountain of red, yellow and blue.

Estel then had the absolute _gall_ to look disappointed. "Gandalf can do that," he said with an edge of reproach.

"Oh he can, can he?" said Harry, half to himself. "In that case…"

A moment later the corridor was filled with a motley mixture of man-size spiders, Brazilian Mongo Mongo monkeys, a rare magical species known for its ambulatory faeces, and a single confused looking Orang-utan.

There was a moment of silence as every animal, and Estel, came to terms with their new situation. Harry had always rather enjoyed watching conjured animals come to terms with their new existence. The Mongo Mongos in particular took to their new magical powers with an unexpected gusto.

"Woooooow!" cried Estel as his eyes threatened to fall out of their sockets.

"Watch your mouth, kid. Mongo Mongo shit is known to like warm damp places."

"... What's shit?"

Harry glanced down at the kid and weighed his options. On the one hand teaching the kid just how to express his future teenage dissatisfaction with the world would be amusing. On the other is wasn't likely to be terribly necessary right now.

After a few moments there was a scream from one of the nearby rooms and in the interest of not pissing his host off in the first day Harry waved a hand to dismiss his many conjurations. Most of them, at least, if an ambulatory shit or two had escaped well, he could hardly be blamed.

Estel, however, looked extremely disappointed. He looked up at Harry with impossibly big eyes. "Aww. Do it again!"

Harry sighed. "Look, kid. There's an important lesson that every child must learn. It's not an easy one but learning it now will stand you in good stead in the future." After nearly an hour of trying to lose the little bastard among the many corridors of Rivendell, Harry was becoming increasingly impatient.

Estel looked up at him, though annoyingly not all _that_ far up; Harry wasn't that much taller than him. "What's the lesson, Master Harry?"

Harry twitched only slightly at the continued use of the words 'Master Harry'. There was, in his opinion only one acceptable time for those words to be used and that time involved a substantial amount of tight black leather. This was something currently sorely lacking in his life.

"The lesson is this. Now come close, kid. Are you listening?" He turned towards the dark haired little bastard and lowered his voice as if to communicate an item of utmost secrecy. Estel nodded eagerly. Say whatever you would about him, the kid was willing, even eager, to learn.

"Well it's like this. There are two types of people in the world. Well, there's a few more than that, but I'll wait until you're a bit older to give you _that_ particular talk. Anyway, where was I, ah, yes, two types of people. Now the important thing, the really important thing is that you identify which is which. The first type, well they're the safe ones. They're the ones you can piss— ah, annoy without fear of reprisal. In my experience most Elves would fall into that camp. Most humans too. There is, however, another type of person. That is the type of person who, if annoyed, will smile and nod and speak kind words in response. Then, that night you'll wake up to find your bed full of spiders, your door locked, and an amorous kneazle stalking the floor."

Harry smiled beatifically at the kid who had his eyebrows knotted in thought. Harry nodded to encourage that level of thought. "Which do you think I am?"

Estel thought about it for some time until finally, after a few false starts, he at last came to a conclusion. "Spiders!? That's so awesome!"

"Exac— No! Listen, you little shit. If you don't sod off right the fuck now you'll be wondering if Gandalf can fix your hands and feet being swapped. I'll give you a hint, he can't."

"Oh wow! Can you really do that?" Estel enthused and he immediately held out both hands for Harry to inspect.

Harry could not help but sigh and shake his head. This was probably not wholly dissimilar to how others felt when he himself was feeling particularly inquisitive. Fortunately for all involved there was an easy way out.

"Sure, want to see?"

"Yes of course Master Harry!"

A flick of the wrist later and Harry's wand was in his hand and pointed at the kid. Then something unexpected happened. Harry hesitated.

"Oh, fuck this," he said in exasperation. He'd always had something of a love-hate relationship with his own better nature. Mostly, he loved to hate it; it always got in the way.

"Portus."

The kid's dull green clothes glowed faintly for a moment before the light faded back to nothing. Nothing else happened. Estel looked at his hands, disappointment clear on his face.

"It didn't work, Master Haaaaaa…"

The little gobshite disappeared in a flash of light and an impossibly elongated, "Ahhhh." There was a very faint splash in the distance followed by the quietest, "Wow!" carried to him by the wind. Harry sighed in contentment as the honeyed silence of Rivendell at last returned.

He blinked when he realised what he'd just thought. That didn't sound right at _all_. Was his body's elvish-ness leaking? That simply would _not_ do at all. It was an idea he wasn't entirely unfamiliar with. He still remembered that time he'd caught Sirius trying to lick his own testicles. On second thoughts, that may just have been Sirius being Sirius.

Well, he could deal with that issue if it cropped up. For now, he had an appointment to keep.

o-o

"So what's the actual plan for dealing with the Dark Lord problem?" Harry asked later in Elrond's surprisingly untidy study. There were books and scrolls all over the place, it was a little like Rose's bedroom after a furious bout of studying; she'd inherited the very worst of both parents, in Harry's opinion.

In addition to Harry and Elrond there were two more Elves lounging in the extremely comfortable seats and Gandalf who was sat in the corner by the window puffing on his ever-present pipe. Tauriel was still nowhere to be found, apparently trees were _very_ interesting things.

One of the Elves was, well for want of a better term, rather impressive. Glorfindel gave Harry the distinct impression that he had seen some real shit. However, he also had his head stuck perilously close to his arse. The other was Erestor who looked like a desk-jockey through and through. Harry quickly decided that he was irrelevant.

However, it was of course Erestor who responded to Harry's question. "The time of the Elves is ending, it is not our place, any more, to steer the fate of Middle-earth."

Harry gave the dark-haired Elf a blank look before turning to the other Elves. "No, but seriously. Plan?"

"There is truth in Erestor's words," said Elrond solemnly. "There is no longer the strength in the Elvish Kingdoms to contest with Sauron directly, if ever they held that strength. We may offer guidance and aid to the realms of Men but we must cede Middle-earth to Men eventually. Even so, no sign has been found of the Ring since the disaster of the Gladden Fields."

"Right, yeah, fine. All good. But let's say, for the sake of argument that someone did find the Ring. What then?"

"Then it would be for the Free Peoples of Middle-earth to decide its fate, and through it their own," said Glorfindel. "We may offer guidance, but no longer is Middle-earth held under our aegis and perhaps that is for the best."

Harry rubbed at his temples in a vain attempt to make the headache go away. "Right. Just so we're on the same page here," he began. "Who's the wisest, strongest, whatever-est Man and how does he compare to, say, sweet-cheeks over here." Harry pointed openly at Erestor.

It as Gandalf that answered this time while Erestor tried to work out if he'd been insulted or not. "Ecthelion, son of Turgon who is Steward of Gondor, is young yet but he has proven himself wise and strong of arm. Perhaps in time others, now hidden will rise who outshine him as the sun outshines the stars."

"Right," said Harry, completely willing to ignore the bollocks that the old Wizard seemed to feel was a necessary part of every sentence. "So if Ecthelium was to fight against he of the perfectly manicured fingernails over here, who would win?"

Erestor frowned in confusion and looked between his fingernails and the others in the room while Glorfindel responded to Harry's question, "Should such a thing ever come to pass then surely Erestor, of Elvenkin would best _Ecthelion_. He has had many more centuries of practice with weapons and strategy, and Elves do not tire like Men."

"Thank you," said Harry victoriously. "So what you're saying is that you're fully aware that you're best suited to dealing with this issue but won't because… reasons?"

Harry noticed that Elrond was sitting back in his chair with his fingers steepled, but he stayed silent and instead Erestor responded. "It is a lesson they must learn, for the Elves are leaving these shores and will not always be here to save them."

"So to teach them self reliance you're just going to drop them in at the deep end." Harry turned to Gandalf. "Didn't you call Sauron the greatest evil of our time?"

He paused a moment while Gandalf mumbled something probably affirmatory.

"Actually, wait. No. I understand now. Is this Sauron bloke a Man, was that Ring of his made by Men or something?"

At last Elrond decided to rejoin the conversation. "In truth, no. Sauron is beyond even the Eldar and he crafted the One himself, though the lesser Rings he crafted with Celebrimbor of Eregion."

Then, unexpectedly, Elrond chuckled, though it sounded tired. "It seems you have been talked in circles by a mere Elfling, Erestor," he said as he shook his head. "But his point is true. Our hand was in Sauron's rise more than any hand of Man. Even Ar Pharazôn was but a piece upon his board, had we been more vigilant, less easily led, perhaps this great evil could have been after at least in part."

"But, My Lord—" began Erestor in surprise.

"No, Erestor," said Elrond gently. "Bronduíst is right. Until we choose to leave we are as much a part of this world as any Man and it is as much our duty as theirs to seek Sauron's downfall."

The Lord of Rivendell turned to Glorfindel. "For too long we have hidden in our safe havens, protected by the powers granted to us. It is time we took true action. The Ring will not see itself found, it must be forced into the light or it will grow ever more powerful in the dark."

Harry leaned forward and tried to resist the urge to wiggle his eyebrows as he'd seen Gandalf often do. He failed. "Well, I might just be able to help with that little problem."

The moment was only slightly ruined when the single unvanished Mongo Mongo shit ran up Harry's leg and deposited itself on his shoulder.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **I genuinely worry about myself sometimes.

* * *

**Any Port in a Storm**

Harry whistled a jaunty tune as he made his way along the Westward road from Rivendell. Behind him, a small coterie of Elves followed and it seemed as if they were intentionally trying to stay just far enough away that they couldn't hear him. It was a waste of effort, though, as the combination of Elfily good hearing, and Harry's surreptitious _Sonorous_ Charm meant that to actually achieve that they would have to be on approximately the next continent.

After a very brief and yet still incredibly boring meeting of the 'White Council', which sounded much more interesting than it really was, Harry had managed to convince everyone involved that there was really no downside to him simply heading out to see if he could find the Ring.

Of _course_ he'd be able to find it. He was a Wizard. Gandalf's same-sex life partner, Sorryman, had been rather convinced that it was a fool's errand, and that he'd searched long and hard for the Ring already.

Harry had suggested a simple solution; don't send fools. Sorryman had not taken his well meaning advice too well and had stormed off. The Elf chick, Galadriel, had clearly appreciated that. To think she was a _granny_.

The upshot, such as it was, had led Harry to his current position, in the arse end of nowhere, leading around a coterie of Elves consisting of Tauriel, Glorfindel and Elrond's two sons.

"That little shit!" said Harry, the direction his wand was consistently pointing now making sense. He stopped and waited for his merry band to catch up.

"I shit you not," said Harry conversationally, as they neared with wary looks on their faces. "I think that fat Hobbit has the bloody thing. What was his name? Billy? Bloddo? Buggins?"

"Bilbo," said one of Elrond's interchangeable sons.

"Yeah. Him. He sodding has it."

"He is but a Hobbit, how would he have come across such a thing?" the same son asked.

Harry shrugged, not really caring. "Dunno. Maybe Smug had it in that mountain of gold that he liked sleeping on?"

"It is not impossible, but could you not be mistaken? The Shire lies along this road, yes, but there is also much that lies beyond," said Glorfindel. He'd proven frustratingly difficult to get under the skin of.

"Except that I checked before, and it pointed right at the little bald Ewok," said Harry.

"What is an Ewok?" asked one or other of Elrond's sons.

"A walking teddy bear."

"What is—"

"If you are right," Tauriel cut in, knowing full well just how much Harry liked to derail conversations, "then surely it is a good thing?"

Harry scowled at her. "Well, if you discount the fact that I _could_ have just got the bloody thing weeks ago, and spent _this_ time trying to get into Granny Elrond's silken underwear."

"Why would you wish—"

"Are you kidding?" Harry replied before Elrodan, or whatever his name was, could finish. "Hubba hubba. Are you telling me, if I _Obliviated_ you right here that you wouldn't want to too?"

Ellahir, maybe, turned to Tauriel, looking completely lost.

"You do not want to understand," she said firmly. "He is merely testing you."

"You know, that kind of test stops working if they know they're being tested," Harry pointed out.

Tauriel simply gave him a blank, unimpressed look. Despite himself, Harry felt a little ashamed. He did have a job to do after all.

"Right, anyway, as I was saying. Belby has the Ring, I'd bet my left nut on it. And that's saying something, I'm quite attached to that nut."

He thought for a moment before turning to Tauriel. "Say, want to take that bet? You'd have to put up something of comparable value." He glanced very obviously at her chest.

"No."

"Just imagine though…"

"No."

o-o

"Yoo hoo!" Harry called as he rapped on the circular door of Buggrins's Hobbit hole. "Belby, me old mate, me old china. It's Harry."

There was a long pause, though Harry's long experience said that it was the silence of someone being quiet, rather than the silence of non-presence.

"I know you're there, you know. Isn't it rude to keep a guest waiting on your doorstep?" he tried. "What _would_ the neighbours think?"

That did the trick, and a moment later the door cracked to. Harry wasted no time, and quickly pushed his way into the burrow. It was actually surprisingly comfortable looking, nowhere near as nasty, dirty and wet as he would have expected. Quite how they waterproofed it, he wasn't sure.

"Oh, and I brought some friends," he said as an afterthought. "I think you know them all though."

"I, um, yes. Good morning Lady Tauriel, Lord Glorfindel, Lord Elladan, Lord Elrohir," said Bilbo, obviously at a complete loss as to how to handle the situation, and so falling back on his in-bred manners. "Would you like some tea?"

"You bloody bet I do," said Harry enthusiastically. "Best part of a week on the road with nothing but acorns for making tea. It's just not the same when it's conjured."

Harry wandered quickly through to the Hobbit's living room and threw himself into the squishy high-backed chair by the fireplace. He lounged there with one leg dangling over the armrest and waited for everyone to make themselves comfortable. He was rather proud when Tauriel quickly commandeered the one remaining sensibly-sized chair, leaving only Hobbit-sized stools for Glorfindel and the brothers.

It took Boffo ten minutes to come back through with the tea, and when he did return he looked visibly calmer, though he was still shooting Harry wary looks. That was just good sense, though. Finally, Bodo took his seat, and Harry took a long sip of tea out of the entirely too-small cup.

He set it down, and put on the face he used when investigating a particularly horrible murder.

"Now, Bilbo, it has some to our attention that you found a rather curious ring while on your little adventure," he said soberly.

"Curious?" said Bilbo, trying artlessly to appear as if he didn't know exactly what Harry was talking about. "In what way would it be curious?"

"Oh it looks pretty normal, I'm told, but it's the invisibility that's curious" said Harry, as he twirled his wand in his hand. A moment later it came to rest pointing at Bilbo's waist. "It's also in your left pocket." He figured that that was more likely than the Hobbit using it as a Prince Albert.

"Invisibility!" said Bilbo, still radiating completely unconvincing surprise. "Well that would be a thing."

"Indeed," said Harry drily. "_Accio_."

There was a tearing noise, followed by a panicked shriek and the Ring jumped across the room to land in Harry's hand.

"That's mine!" said Bilbo desperately, he stood up and balled his fists. "I found it! You can't just take it! That's robbery!"

"Actually, I think I just did. But if you're worried about that. How about I buy it from you?"

"You… What?"

"You, me, money exchanging hands. All legal-like."

"I don't _want_ to sell it," said Bilbo earnestly. "It's a… a… memento! Yes, a keepsake from my trip to the Lonely Mountain. You wouldn't take that from me now, would you?"

"Listen, Bilbo, it's like this, right," said Harry as he flipped the Ring up in the air in one hand, and watched Bilbo's eyes follow it up and down, up and down. "This Ring needs to be destroyed for the good of the world. It was made by a chap called Sauron who tried to take over the world before. If we don't destroy it, then there's a pretty good chance he'll have another crack at the whip, so to speak. So what you _want_ really has very little bearing in this discussion, I'm just trying to be reasonable."

"I… but…" Bilbo looked desperately at Glorfindel for confirmation.

"I am sad to say that he speaks the truth, Master Baggins," said Glorfindel.

Bilbo sagged. "Oh."

"Do not despair, my fine furry friend," said Harry, instantly dropping his serious attitude. "I said I was going to pay for it."

He reached into the pouch at his belt, held it out and turned it upside down. A stream of gold coins started pouring onto the carpet.

"Say when," said Harry, largely ignoring the growing heap of gold and jewels.

"Wh… What?"

"When it's enough," Harry clarified. "Say when."

The pile was already significantly taller than Bilbo, and Harry had to push it over so that he didn't need to leave his seat to keep pouring it out. With half the gold of Erebor to his name, he could afford to be generous.

"When!" cried Bilbo. "When!"

Harry quickly closed the neck of his pouch and returned it to his waist. "It was a pleasure doing business with you."

He finished off the last of his tea in a single gulp, then grimaced. Cold. He then rubbed his hands and looked at the rest of the room's inhabitants who were still staring at the pile of gold which filled up easily half of the room. "So, pub? I saw one down in Hobbiton that looked like it knew its way around a barrel."

Harry thought for a moment longer. "Also, do you think I'd be able to pass for a Hobbit?"

o-o

Hobbit ladies were nowhere near as attractive as Elvish ones, but Harry would accept any port in a storm. In all honesty, he wasn't all that far away from docking up in an amorous badger, if one happened to present itself.

Hobbit beer was also little better than shitty flavoured water to someone with an Elvish constitution. He'd been through six pints (in half-pint pitchers) already, and all that had resulted in was the frequent need to visit the little warlock's room.

He was currently draped rather fetchingly, if he did say so himself, over one Lobelia Bracegirdle who was making a very good show of laughing at his jokes, even though there was precisely zero chance that she understood his Quidditch references. He realised, of course, that the reason she was still present was because Harry had 'accidentally' dropped a number of gold coins while getting his third drink.

He had no problem with gold-diggers. His logic was that everyone pays for sex, one way or another.

"And so then I told him, 'Hagrid, I suggested an _inflatable_ dragon, not a fellatable one!'" Harry laughed uproariously, joined by a confused Lobelia. After a short while he regressed to a chuckle, and rubbed the tears from his eyes. "Still, I guess those kids got an education out of it, so no harm, no foul."

At that moment, in his infinite wisdom, Glorfindel entered the cozy tavern and all conversation stopped. He made his way over to where Harry was giving him an entirely ineffective evil-eye.

"The twins have returned from their scouting, they say that the borders of the Shire are being watched by dark figures," he said without preamble.

Harry looked up at him. "... So…?"

"The Enemy must have gleaned our purpose here, and faster than we'd feared," Glorfindel explained. "We must make for the Havens of Mithlond, they do not watch the Westward Road, yet, at least. We cannot wait for dawn."

Harry lowered his voice and gestured Glorfindel closer. "Look, you're killing me here. Give me an hour, two, tops, and I can seal the deal here and be on the road with a spring in my step."

It was not to be, however, for at that moment something clicked in Lobelia's brain. "Wait, are you an Elf?" There was a pause as she followed that line of reasoning through to its conclusion. "You're a child! Oh, my days!"

She made a rapid exit. Harry turned to Glorfindel, who appeared utterly unrepentant. "I hate this world and everyone in it."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **The events described herein may or may not be based on a true story.

* * *

**A Memory of Caernarfon**

"Buggering Bicorns!" cried Harry as he awoke with a start.

His eyes immediately tracked around the tent he'd conjured for the night, attempting to locate any potential sources of danger. When none were immediately forthcoming, he relaxed back into the squishy bed.

That had been fairly high on his 'weird as fuck' dream list. He was no stranger to funny dreams, and he held a certain fondness for the recurring dream where he was riding Aragog to the moon, but this one was unusual.

He hadn't had a curry in _months_, so why was he dreaming about the most unpleasant case of curry shits in history?

He shook his head and decided to put it out of his mind. He really hoped it didn't turn into a regular occurrence though. Even now after waking up he felt as if the tortured anus of his dreams was still watching.

He yawned, more through habit than anything else, and waved his hand. It was still stupid o'clock in the morning, but Elves needed less sleep. If Harry was a suspicious man, and he was, he'd have said it was so they could fit more monkey sex into the hours of darkness while everyone else was none-the-wiser.

Not that that was any comfort to him as he lay in a bed with a very marked deficit of naked women. Not for the first time he considered stealing on of Tauriel's hairs and having a go at making Polyjuice Potion. There was surely some snaggle-toothed old whore in Bree who'd be up for that particular adventure. Maybe he could get the Ring in on the action too, as a last very literal 'fuck you' to his most recent Dark Lord.

He rolled out of bed, and as he walked towards the entrance of his tent his clothes flew to him from the many and varied places he'd thrown them when getting into bed a few hours before. As his breeches rose into the air, the very Ring he'd been thinking of dropped out of the pocket, and rolled a few feet towards the exit before the slightest twitch of Harry's hand sent it flying back into his pocket just as the breeches seemed to flow around his legs for a moment.

Perhaps he should make up a special container for it. Or maybe a necklace? He paused for a moment, considering the idea. Maybe he could play up the grieving widower angle… Nah, he doubted anyone would buy it, sadly.

He shoved the tent-flap aside and was immediately greeted by the pointy end of Glorfindel's very shiny sword. Harry blinked owlishly, and the early morning birdsong was instantly silenced.

"Do I get a last request?" he asked levelly, then his eyes slid over to where Tauriel was standing, bow pulled taught, with an arrow nocked on the string. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

She relaxed, and lowered her bow. Half a second later, Glorfindel did the same, and, just like that, everything returned to normal.

"Did I miss something?"

Ordinarily, Harry would have been rather peeved about having deadly weapons pointed at his person. Swords had never really made it into the 'deadly weapons' category, though, what with his ability to turn them into very large floppy dildoes with but a thought.

"A fell presence laid its eye upon us," said Glorfindel, still a little wary. "We had feared that you might have succumbed to the temptation of the Ring and challenged Sauron for Mastery of it. Did you not feel his Eye upon you as you slept?"

"Oh, that was meant to be an _Eye, _was it?" said Harry. "I thought I was having flashbacks to that time when I ate a bad curry in Caernarfon when I was on a stake-out. That was the longest hour of my life, I shit you not. And when I say 'I shit you not' you should be grateful, because some others weren't so lucky that day."

"You saw Him, then, in your dreams?" asked Glorfindel, and was there an edge of worry to his voice? Harry knew that they had a bit of a complex about the Sowron guy, but given that Glorfindel had literally come back from the dead, if the stories were to be believed, surely he shouldn't have been overly phased?

"Big flaming arsehole style-of-thing?" Harry asked, and got a nod in return. He continued, "Then, yeah, maybe. Either that, or my anus was coming to revenge itself upon me, with an army of diarrhea covered Welshmen in tow." Harry shook his head, reminiscing. "Poor Rhys."

"Did he speak to you? Did you tell him anything of our plans?"

"Well, no," said Harry as if it should be obvious. "I don't generally get chatty with my own anus. Other people's… well that's another matter entirely, of course." He flashed Tauriel a saucy wink. For the first time in a while she looked puzzled, and Harry chalked that up as a victory. Putting her off-balance was becoming a rarer coin with each passing day in his company. It probably worked like aversion therapy or something.

"Remind me later to show you what I meant," he said innocently. Tauriel narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but didn't say anything more. Harry had little hope that that play actually paying off, but he wasn't above getting dirty, metaphorically and literally, if it meant seeing some action. Maybe he should have set his sights on someone more impressionable. By now, he'd heard lots of stories about Elrond's daughter, Arwen. Being the spoiled only daughter of a lordy-type she would surely have been up for a tumble. It was really just a pity she was bulking with her granny in Lothloriwhatsit. Now that was a thought.

"That is good news," said Glorfindel, somehow managing to completely ignore Harry's little by-play. "But we must make haste to the Havens at Mithlond, for surely his servants now come behind us with all the terrible haste their Dark master can give them."

Harry shrugged non-committedly. He wasn't overly concerned about dark servants, no matter how 'fell' their haste. "Fair enough. But where are the brothers dim?"

"Elladan is scouting the route ahead, and Elrohir watches the road behind us," said Tauriel as she gathered her travelling pack. She was possibly the only woman Harr had met who didn't carry around a steamer-trunk filled with cosmetic products. The only woman who didn't look like the bastard lovechild of a goblin and a turnip, anyway.

With a final lazy wave of his hand, Harry's tent collapsed back into a dainty handkerchief with the flowing monogram 'BB' in the corner. "Well, let's get this show back on the road then."

"Oh, and word to the wise," he said lightly, nothing more than afterthought, really. "If you think you might need to kill someone, I recommend you don't start waving your sword about like it's baby's first erection. If you tried that with someone less forgiving than me then you might end up having to mediate a meeting between your head and your lower intestines."

o-o

"That is a beard," said Harry as he looked upon one of the most magnificent examples of beardedness he'd ever set eyes upon.

"He is Círdan, and Lord of these Havens," said Glorfindel. "Eldest among the Eldar of Middle-earth."

"That _is_ a beard," Harry repeated, as he gazed in open wonder.

"He wears many trials upon his face, for he alone of the Elves of Middle-earth can still remember the Great March," said Glorfindel.

"_That_ is a _beard,_" said Harry again, as he imagined the covetous look that Dumbledore would surely have worn in the presence of such fantastic follicles. The Havens were quite nice looking too, Harry supposed. After spending time in Rivendell he would describe it as 'nice, but a bit Elfy' if put upon to comment.

"Indeed it is, young master Bronduíst," said Círdan, as he smiled own at Harry. "And, may I say, it is a pleasure to meet another who appreciates it. We have heard much of your travels already."

"I have known a great many beards in my time," said Harry. "There was one particularly impressive one that was attached to a half-giant of my acquaintance. Not a patch on yours though. Does _all_ Elf hair grow that straight and silky?" He turned to give the ol' Potter leer to Tauriel but found she'd already buggered off down to the shore and was seemingly listening to the seagulls. That was just plain rude. Here Harry was being a modern day Romeo, and she couldn't even muster the energy to swoon at his romantic gestures. Maybe he'd have to step his game up.

"Perhaps this discussion can wait for another time," Glorfindel suggested. "Our mission is of dire import, and I do not think that Master Círdan will want us to tarry here longer than is strictly necessary. These Havens are not so protected as Imladris, and we are pursued by Sauron's spies."

"I am aware of your mission," said Círdan as he raised his hand, cutting off Elladan who had been about to speak. "And I am aware of those who pursue you. They are not yet so numerous or dangerous that he do not have the strength here to keep them away."

"I still don't see why I can't just blast them," Harry said, his childish voice once again failing to rise to the challenge of a good grumble. "There's, like, a couple of dozen of them."

"You bear with you now a burden greater than any Elf has borne before," said Glorfindel soberly. "And with it comes a temptation to power that few could resist. You would be ill advised to enter into battle while you bear it."

"Yeah, yeah," said Harry, and he rolled his eyes. "So you say, but all I've had so far is some passingly unpleasant dreams. I've seen a lot worse, believe me."

"Then you are lucky," said Glorfindel simply. "And would do well not to tempt Fate."

Harry figured that there wasn't much point in arguing, really. The fact that they were being followed was, in the grand scheme of things, pretty irrelevant.

"Right, but I'm just saying, if we decide to make a dash for Merdur, it'd probably be a good idea to ask them politely to piss off first."

"You need not ask anything of them," said Círdan, an amused smile playing on his lips. "For you find yourself now in the Grey Havens, there the greatest ships of Elvenkind are built. You need only ask, and one will be granted to you. Any one of these ships could bear you to any of the ports of Gondor in but a few short days."

There was a short moment while Harry did some hurried mental arithmetic in his head to work out how long it would have taken to walk all that distance. He didn't mind the walking, really, but the camping was just no good at all, he'd had enough of that to last him a lifetime, an Elvish lifetime.

Also, ports meant sailors, and if his vague recollection of urban legends was anything to go by, sailors meant prostitutes.

"Deal."


End file.
